What lovely, lovely gloves! Out of my thoughts, out of my thoughts! One, two, three, four, five, six—[Screams.] Ah! there is someone coming—. [Makes a movement towards the door, but stands irresolute.]

[Enter MRS LINDE from the hall, where she has taken off her cloak and hat.]

NORA: Oh, it’s you, Christine. There is no one else out there, is there? How good of you to come!

MRS LINDE: I heard you were up asking for me.

NORA: Yes, I was passing by. As a matter of fact, it is something you could help me with. Let us sit down here on the sofa. Look here. Tomorrow evening there is to be a fancy-dress ball at the Stenborgs’, who live above us; and Torvald wants me to go as a Neapolitan fisher-girl, and dance the Tarantella that I learned at Capri.

MRS LINDE: I see; you are going to keep up the character.

NORA: Yes, Torvald wants me to. Look, here is the dress; Torvald had it made for me there, but now it is all so torn, and I haven’t any idea—

MRS LINDE: We will easily put that right. It is only some of the trimming come unsewn here and there. Needle and thread? Now then, that’s all we want.

NORA: It is nice of you.

MRS LINDE: [Sewing.] So you are going to be dressed up tomorrow Nora. I will tell you what—I shall come in for a moment and see you in your fine feathers. But I have completely forgotten to thank you for a delightful evening yesterday.

NORA: [Gets up, and crosses the stage.] Well, I don’t think yesterday was as pleasant as usual. You ought to have come to town a little earlier, Christine. Certainly Torvald does understand how to make a house dainty and attractive.

MRS LINDE: And so do you, it seems to me; you are not your father’s daughter for nothing. But tell me, is Doctor Rank always as depressed as he was yesterday?

NORA: No; yesterday it was very noticeable. I must tell you that he suffers from a very dangerous disease. He has consumption of the spine, poor creature. His father was a horrible man who committed all sorts of excesses; and that is why his son was sickly from childhood, do you understand?

MRS LINDE: [Dropping her sewing.] But, my dearest Nora, how do you know anything about such things?

NORA: [Walking about.] Pooh! When you have three children, you get visits now and then from—from married women, who know something of medical matters, and they talk about one thing and another.

MRS LINDE: [Goes on sewing. A short silence.] Does Doctor Rank come here everyday?

NORA: Everyday regularly. He is Torvald’s most intimate friend, and a great friend of mine too. He is just like one of the family.

MRS LINDE: But tell me this—is he perfectly sincere? I mean, isn’t he the kind of man that is very anxious to make himself agreeable?

NORA: Not in the least. What makes you think that?

MRS LINDE: When you introduced him to me yesterday, he declared he had often heard my name mentioned in this house; but afterwards I noticed that your husband hadn’t the slightest idea who I was. So how could Doctor Rank—?

NORA: That is quite right, Christine. Torvald is so absurdly fond of me that he wants me absolutely to himself, as he says. At first he used to seem almost jealous if I mentioned any of the dear folk at home, so naturally I gave up doing so. But I often talk about such things with Doctor Rank, because he likes hearing about them.

MRS LINDE: Listen to me, Nora. You are still very like a child in many things, and I am older than you in many ways and have a little more experience. Let me tell you this—you ought to make an end of it with Doctor Rank.

NORA: What ought I to make an end of?

MRS LINDE: Of two things, I think. Yesterday you talked some nonsense about a rich admirer who was to leave you money—

NORA: An admirer who doesn’t exist, unfortunately! But what then?

MRS LINDE: Is Doctor Rank a man of means?

NORA: Yes, he is.

MRS LINDE: And has no one to provide for?

NORA: No, no one; but—

MRS LINDE: And comes here everyday?

NORA: Yes, I told you so.

MRS LINDE: But how can this well-bred man be so tactless?

NORA: I don’t understand you at all.

MRS LINDE: Don’t prevaricate, Nora. Do you suppose I don’t guess who lent you the two hundred and fifty pounds?

NORA: Are you out of your senses? How can you think of such a thing! A friend of ours, who comes here everyday! Do you realise what a horribly painful position that would be?

MRS LINDE: Then it really isn’t he?

NORA: No, certainly not. It would never have entered into my head for a moment.