NORA.
[doubtfully]. How do you do—
MRS LINDE.
You don’t recognise me, I suppose.
NORA.
No, I don’t know—yes, to be sure, I seem to—[Suddenly.] Yes! Christine! Is it really you?
MRS LINDE.
Yes, it is I.
NORA.
Christine! To think of my not recognising you! And yet how could I—[In a gentle voice.] How you have altered, Christine!
MRS LINDE.
Yes, I have indeed. In nine, ten long years—
NORA.
Is it so long since we met? I suppose it is. The last eight years have been a happy time for me, I can tell you. And so now you have come into the town, and have taken this long journey in winter—that was plucky of you.
MRS LINDE.
I arrived by steamer this morning.
NORA.
To have some fun at Christmas-time, of course. How delightful! We will have such fun together! But take off your things. You are not cold, I hope. [Helps her.] Now we will sit down by the stove, and be cosy. No, take this armchair; I will sit here in the rocking-chair. [Takes her hands.] Now you look like your old self again; it was only the first moment—You are a little paler, Christine, and perhaps a little thinner.
MRS LINDE.
And much, much older, Nora.