A Doll's House : a play

by Henrik Ibsen

NORA.
Perhaps a little older; very, very little; certainly not much. [Stops suddenly and speaks seriously.] What a thoughtless creature I am, chattering away like this. My poor, dear Christine, do forgive me.

MRS LINDE.
What do you mean, Nora?

NORA.
[gently]. Poor Christine, you are a widow.

MRS LINDE.
Yes; it is three years ago now.

NORA.
Yes, I knew; I saw it in the papers. I assure you, Christine, I meant ever so often to write to you at the time, but I always put it off and something always prevented me.

MRS LINDE.
I quite understand, dear.

NORA.
It was very bad of me, Christine. Poor thing, how you must have suffered. And he left you nothing?

MRS LINDE.
No.

NORA.
And no children?

MRS LINDE.
No.