If only I could have the good luck to get some regular work--office work
of some kind--

_Nora_. But, Christine, that is so frightfully tiring, and you look
tired out now. You had far better go away to some watering-place.

_Mrs. Linde_ (_walking to the window_). I have no father to give me
money for a journey, Nora.

_Nora_ (_rising_). Oh, don't be angry with me.

_Mrs. Linde_ (_going up to her_). It is you that must not be angry with
me, dear. The worst of a position like mine is that it makes one so
bitter. No one to work for, and yet obliged to be always on the look-out
for chances. One must live, and so one becomes selfish. When you told me
of the happy turn your fortunes have taken--you will hardly believe
it--I was delighted not so much on your account as on my own.

_Nora_. How do you mean?--Oh, I understand. You mean that perhaps
Torvald could get you something to do.

_Mrs. Linde_. Yes, that was what I was thinking of.

_Nora_. He must, Christine. Just leave it to me; I will broach the
subject very cleverly--I will think of something that will please him
very much. It will make me so happy to be of some use to you.

_Mrs. Linde_. How kind you are, Nora, to be so anxious to help me! It is
doubly kind in you, for you know so little of the burdens and troubles
of life.