NORA.
[putting her hands on his shoulders]. Dear, dear Doctor Rank, death mustn’t take you away from Torvald and me.
RANK.
It is a loss you would easily recover from. Those who are gone are soon forgotten.
NORA.
[looking at him anxiously]. Do you believe that?
RANK.
People form new ties, and then—
NORA.
Who will form new ties?
RANK.
Both you and Helmer, when I am gone. You yourself are already on the high road to it, I think. What did that Mrs Linde want here last night?
NORA.
Oho!—you don’t mean to say you are jealous of poor Christine?
RANK.
Yes, I am. She will be my successor in this house. When I am done for, this woman will—
NORA.
Hush! don’t speak so loud. She is in that room.
RANK.
Today again. There, you see.