You could say “the bottom of the sea.”[17] GREGERS. Oh, mayn’t I just as well say the depths of the sea? HEDVIG. Yes; but it sounds so strange to me when other people speak of the depths of the sea. GREGERS. Why so? Tell me why? HEDVIG. No, I won’t; it’s so stupid. GREGERS. Oh no, I am sure it’s not. Do tell me why you smiled. HEDVIG. Well, this is the reason: whenever I come to realise suddenly—in a flash—what is in there, it always seems to me that the whole room and everything in it should be called “the depths of the sea.”—But that is so stupid. GREGERS. You mustn’t say that. HEDVIG. Oh yes, for you know it is only a garret. GREGERS. [_Looks fixedly at her._] Are you so sure of that? HEDVIG. [_Astonished._] That it’s a garret? GREGERS. Are you quite certain of it? [HEDVIG _is silent, and looks at him open-mouthed._ GINA _comes in from the kitchen with the table things._ GREGERS. [_Rising._] I have come in upon you too early. GINA. Oh, you must be somewhere; and we’re nearly ready now, anyway. Clear the table, Hedvig. [HEDVIG _clears away her things; she and_ GINA _lay the cloth during what follows._ GREGERS _seats himself in the arm-chair, and turns over an album._ GREGERS. I hear you can retouch, Mrs. Ekdal. GINA. [_With a side glance._] Yes, I can. GREGERS. That was exceedingly lucky. GINA. How—lucky? GREGERS. Since Ekdal took to photography, I mean. HEDVIG. Mother can take photographs too. GINA. Oh, yes; I was bound to learn _that_. GREGERS. So it is really you that carry on the business, I suppose? GINA. Yes, when Ekdal hasn’t time himself—— GREGERS. He is a great deal taken up with his old father, I daresay. GINA. Yes; and then you can’t expect a man like Ekdal to do nothing but take car-de-visits of Dick, Tom and Harry. GREGERS. I quite agree with you; but having once gone in for the thing—— GINA. You can surely understand, Mr. Werle, that Ekdal’s not like one of your common photographers. GREGERS. Of course not; but still——