"That is merely because it is Milla, and not you."
"No indeed, Tinka," and she raised herself on her elbow. "Tora has given me so much of it that I am tired of it; yes, I am; and to think that she is with Milla now." She flung herself down again and cried, with anger and vexation. She raised herself again suddenly: "But I must get rid of all this; it is disgusting; I despise myself; you do not know what I have been thinking since this morning. Help me, Tinka; you are the only one of them all who speaks the truth to me."
Tinka was unmoved: Nora flung herself down again, turned away and cried.
"I cannot understand," said Tinka at length, "that you who rave so for----"
"Do not use that word"--Nora interrupted her while she made a gesture with her hand behind her--"it has become loathsome now that Milla does it too. Milla 'raves.' Can you imagine anything so----?"
"Well, well, I will not say 'rave.'"
"No, don't."
"Very well, I will say 'interest yourself--you who interest yourself so much in all that is just and great, and who are also so brave, for you would cheerfully die for what you think right----"
"Yes, I could, Tinka; I believe I could do that; ah, how nice it is to hear something good again, and especially from you; I feel quite astray."
"Yes, but now I am coming to what I want to say--do you understand? Is it not a shame that any one so excellent should all the same be such a peacock?"