OSWALD. I demanded it of him. I told him I had preparations to make--[He
smiles cunningly.] And so I had. [He takes a little box from his inner
breast pocket and opens it.] Mother, do you see this?
MRS. ALVING. What is it?
OSWALD. Morphia.
MRS. ALVING. [Looks at him horror-struck.] Oswald--my boy!