Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 7).djvu/64

 Nora.

With a lot of children. There! Now it will burn up.

[She closes the stove, and pushes the rocking-chair a little aside.

Mrs. Linden.

His business is not of the most creditable, they say?

Nora.

Isn't it? I daresay not. I don't know. But don't let us think of business—it's so tiresome.

Dr. Rank comes out of Helmer's room.

Rank.

[Still in the doorway.] No, no; I'm in your way. I shall go and have a chat with your wife. [Shuts the door and sees Mrs. Linden.] Oh, I beg your pardon. I'm in the way here too.

Nora.

No, not in the least. [Introduces them.] Doctor Rank—Mrs. Linden.

Rank.

Oh, indeed; I've often heard Mrs. Linden's name; I think I passed you on the stairs as I came up.

Mrs. Linden.

Yes; I go so very slowly. Stairs try me so much.

Rank.

Ah—you are not very strong?

Mrs. Linden.

Only overworked.