MANDERS. [Looking sympathetically at him.] You went out into the
world early, my dear Oswald.

OSWALD. I did. I sometimes wonder whether it wasn't too early.

MRS. ALVING. Oh, not at all. A healthy lad is all the better for
it; especially when he's an only child. He oughtn't to hang on at
home with his mother and father, and get spoilt.

MANDERS. That is a very disputable point, Mrs. Alving. A child's
proper place is, and must be, the home of his fathers.

OSWALD. There I quite agree with you, Pastor Manders.

MANDERS. Only look at your own son--there is no reason why we
should not say it in his presence--what has the consequence been
for him? He is six or seven and twenty, and has never had the
opportunity of learning what a well-ordered home really is.

OSWALD. I beg your pardon, Pastor; there you're quite mistaken.

MANDERS. Indeed? I thought you had lived almost exclusively in
artistic circles.

OSWALD. So I have.

MANDERS. And chiefly among the younger artists?

OSWALD. Yes, certainly.