_ Well, he may possibly put up for the Professorship against you,
and, though you _are_ an uncommonly clever man of letters--for a
Norwegian--it's not wholly improbable that he may cut you out!
_George._ But, look here, good Lord, Judge BRACK!--(_gesticulating_)--that
would show an incredible want of consideration for me! I married on my
chance of _getting_ that Professorship. A man like LOeVBORG, too, who hasn't
even been respectable, eh? One doesn't do such things as that!
_Brack._ Really? You forget we are all realistic and unconventional persons
here, and do all kinds of odd things. But don't worry yourself! [_He
goes out._
_George_ (_to Hedda_). Oh, I say, HEDDA, what's to become of our Fairyland
now, eh? We can't have a liveried servant, or give dinner-parties, or have
a horse for riding. Fancy that!
_Hedda_ (_slowly, and wearily_). No, we shall really have to set up as
Fairies in reduced circumstances, now.
_George_ (_cheering up_). Still, we shall see Aunt JULIE every day, and
_that_ will be something, and I've got back my old slippers. We shan't be
altogether without some amusements, eh?
_Hedda_ (_crosses the floor_).
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