Nora. We have been married now eight years. Does it not occur to you that this is the first time we two, you and I, husband and wife, have had a serious conversation?
Helmer. What do you mean by serious?
Nora. In all these eight years—longer than that—from the very beginning of our acquaintance, we have never exchanged a word on any serious subject.
Helmer. Was it likely that I would be continually and forever telling you about worries that you could not help me to bear?
Nora. I am not speaking about business matters. I say that we have never sat down in earnest together to try and get at the bottom of anything.
Helmer. But, dearest Nora, would it have been any good to you?
Nora. That is just it; you have never understood me. I have been greatly wronged, Torvald—first by papa and then by you.
Helmer. What! By us two—by us two, who have loved you better than anyone else in in the world?
Nora (shaking her head). You have never loved me. You have only thought it pleasant to be in love with me.
Helmer. Nora, what do I hear you saying?