NORA.
She has only come to sew my dress for me. Bless my soul, how unreasonable you are! [Sits down on the sofa.] Be nice now, Doctor Rank, and tomorrow you will see how beautifully I shall dance, and you can imagine I am doing it all for you—and for Torvald too, of course. [Takes various things out of the box.] Doctor Rank, come and sit down here, and I will show you something.
RANK.
[sitting down]. What is it?
NORA.
Just look at those!
RANK.
Silk stockings.
NORA.
Flesh-coloured. Aren’t they lovely? It is so dark here now, but tomorrow—. No, no, no! you must only look at the feet. Oh well, you may have leave to look at the legs too.
RANK.
Hm!—
NORA.
Why are you looking so critical? Don’t you think they will fit me?
RANK.
I have no means of forming an opinion about that.
NORA.
[looks at him for a moment]. For shame! [Hits him lightly on the ear with the stockings.] That’s to punish you. [Folds them up again.]
RANK.
And what other nice things am I to be allowed to see?