Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 7).djvu/103

 Mrs. Linden.

One's own husband, yes.

Nora.

Nonsense. [Stands still.] When everything is paid, one gets back the paper.

Mrs. Linden.

Of course.

Nora.

And can tear it into a hundred thousand pieces, and burn it up, the nasty, filthy thing!

Mrs. Linden.

[Looks at her fixedly, lays down her work, and rises slowly.] Nora, you are hiding something from me.

Nora.

Can you see it in my face?

Mrs. Linden.

Something has happened since yesterday morning. Nora, what is it?

Nora.

[Going towards her.] Christina! [Listens.] Hush! There's Torvald coming home. Do you mind going into the nursery for the present? Torvald can't bear to see dressmaking going on. Get Anna to help you.

Mrs. Linden.

[Gathers some of the things together.] Very well; but I shan't go away until you have told me all about it.

[She goes out to the left, as Helmer enters from the hall.