Rank. Did you notice it? (with pride). It was almost incredible the amount I contrived to put away. But I shall suffer for it to-morrow (gloomily). Heredity again! I wish I was dead! I do.
Nora. Don't apologise. TORVALD was just as bad; but he is always so good-tempered after champagne.
Rank. Ah, well, I just looked in to say that I haven't long to live. Don't weep for me, Mrs. HELMER, it's chronic—and hereditary too. Here are my P.P.C. cards. I'm a fading flower. Can you oblige me with a cigar?
Nora (with a suppressed smile). Certainly. Let me give you a light?
[RANK lights his cigar, after several ineffectual attempts, and goes out.
Helmer (compassionately). Poo' old RANK—he'sh very bad to-ni'! (Pulls himself together.) But I forgot—Bishness—I mean, bu-si-ness—mush be 'tended to. I'll go and see if there are any letters. (Goes to box.) Hallo! someone's been at the lock with a hairpin—it's one of your hairpins! [Holding it out to her.
Nora (quickly). Not mine—one of BOB's, or IVAR's—they both wear hairpins!
Helmer (turning over letters absently). You must break them of it—bad habit! What a lot o' lettersh! double usual quantity. (Opens KROGSTAD's.) By Jove! (Reads it and falls back completely sobered.) What have you got to say to this?
Nora (crying aloud.) You shan't save me—let me go! I won't be saved!
Helmer. Save you, indeed! Who's going to save Me? You miserable little criminal. (Annoyed.) Ugh—ugh!