NORA.
(after a pause, whispers). No, no — it isn't true. It's impossible; it must be impossible.
(The NURSE opens the door on the left.)
NURSE.
The little ones are begging so hard to be allowed to come in to mamma.
NORA.
No, no, no! Don't let them come in to me! You stay with them, Anne.
NURSE.
Very well, ma'am. (Shuts the door.)
NORA.
(pale with terror). Deprave my little children? Poison my home? (A short pause. Then she tosses her head.) It's not true. It can't possibly be true.
