BORGHEIM enters quickly. He is a young man of a little over thirty. His expression is bright and cheerful, and he holds himself erect.] BORGHEIM. Good morning, Mrs. Allmers. [Stops with an expression of pleasure on seeing ALLMERS.] Why, what's this? Home again already, Mr. Allmers? ALLMERS. [Shaking hands with him.] Yes, I arrived list night. RITA. [Gaily.] His leave was up, Mr. Borgheim. ALLMERS. No, you know it wasn't, Rita-- RITA. [Approaching.] Oh yes, but it was, though. His furlough had run out. BORGHEIM. I see you hold your husband well in hand, Mrs. Allmers. RITA. I hold to my rights. And besides, everything must have an end. BORGHEIM. Oh, not everything--I hope. Good morning, Miss Allmers! ASTA. [Holding aloof from him.] Good morning. RITA. [Looking at BORGHEIM.] Not everything, you say? BORGHEIM. Oh, I am firmly convinced that there are some things in the world that will never come to an end. RITA. I suppose you are thinking of love--and that sort of thing. BORGHEIM. [Warmly.] I am thinking of all that is lovely! RITA. And that never comes to an end. Yes, let us think of that, hope for that, all of us. ALLMERS. [Coming up to them.] I suppose you will soon have finished your road-work out here? BORGHEIM. I have finished it already--finished it yesterday. It has been a long business, but, thank Heaven, that has come to an end. RITA. And you are beaming with joy over that? BORGHEIM. Yes, I am indeed! RITA. Well, I must say-- BORGHEIM. What, Mrs. Allmers?