MRS. LINDE.
Still I think the sick are those who most need taking care of.
RANK.
(shrugging his shoulders). Yes, there you are. That is the sentiment that is turning Society into a sick-house.
(NORA, who has been absorbed in her thoughts, breaks out into smothered laughter and claps her hands.)
RANK.
Why do you laugh at that? Have you any notion what Society really is?
NORA.
What do I care about tiresome Society? I am laughing at something quite different, something extremely amusing. Tell me, Doctor Rank, are all the people who are employed in the Bank dependent on Torvald now?
RANK.
Is that what you find so extremely amusing?
NORA.
(smiling and humming). That's my affair! (Walking about the room.) It's perfectly glorious to think that we have — that Torvald has so much power over so many people. (Takes the packet from her pocket.) Doctor Rank, what do you say to a macaroon?
RANK.
What, macaroons? I thought they were forbidden here.
NORA.
Yes, but these are some Christine gave me.
MRS. LINDE.
What! I? —
