GIBSON: [_dropping the rose upon his blotting pad, not into the glass
again_]: This is the fourth that's had to wither disappointed.

NORA [_in a low voice_]: Then hadn't you better let the others live?

GIBSON: I'd like to live a little myself, Nora. Life doesn't seem much
worth living for me as it is, and if your theories are making you detest
me I think I'm about through.

NORA: It's what you stand for that my theories make me detest--since you
used the word.

GIBSON: Well, what is it that I stand for?

NORA: Class and class hatred.

GIBSON: Which class is the hatred coming from?

NORA: From both!

GIBSON: Just in this room right now it seems to be all on one side. And
lately it has seemed to me to be more and more not so much class as
personal; because really, Nora, I haven't yet been able to understand
how a girl with your mind can believe that you and I belong to different
classes.

NORA: You don't! So long as capital exists you and I are in warring
classes, Mr. Gibson.