Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/441

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To our home;—to our own home, Irene.

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Have you looked for my coming every single day?

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How dared I look for you?

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[With a sidelong glance.] No, I suppose you dared not. For you understood nothing.

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Was it really not for the sake of some one else that you all of a sudden disappeared from me in that way?

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Might it not quite well be for your sake, Arnold?

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[Looks doubtfully at her.] I don't understand you?

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When I had served you with my soul and with my body—when the statue stood there finished—our child as you called it—then I laid at your feet the most precious sacrifice of all—by effacing myself for all time.