[Compassionately.] Poo' old Rank—he'sh very bad to-ni'! [Pulls himself together.] But I forgot—Bishness—I mean, bu-si-ness—mush be 'tended to. I'll go and see if there are any letters. [Goes to box.] Hallo! some one's been at the lock with a hairpin—it's one of your hairpins!
[Holding it out to her.
Nora.
[Quickly.] Not mine—one of Bob's, or Ivar's—they both wear hairpins!
Helmer.
[Turning over letters absently.] You must break them of it—bad habit! What a lot o' lettersh! double usual quantity. [Opens Krogstad's.] By Jove! [Reads it and falls back completely sobered.] What have you got to say to this?
Nora.
[Crying aloud.] You shan't save me—let me go! I won't be saved!
Helmer.
Save you, indeed! Who's going to save Me? You miserable little criminal. [Annoyed.] Ugh—ugh!