Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 7).djvu/163

 Nora.

Wish me the same.

Rank.

You? Very well, since you ask me—Sleep well. And thanks for the light.

[He nods to them both and goes out.

Helmer.

[In an undertone.] He's been drinking a good deal.

Nora.

[Absently.] I daresay. [Helmer takes his bunch of keys from his pocket and goes into the hall.] Torvald, what are you doing there?

Helmer.

I must empty the letter-box; it's quite full; there will be no room for the newspapers to-morrow morning.

Nora.

Are you going to work to-night?

Helmer.

You know very well I am not.—Why, how is this? Some one has been at the lock.

Nora.

The lock?

Helmer.

I'm sure of it. What does it mean? I can't think that the servants? Here's a broken hair-pin. Nora, it's one of yours.

Nora.

[Quickly.] It must have been the children