_Nora_. I--? I know so little of them?

_Mrs Linde_ (_smiling_). My dear! Small household cares and that sort of
thing!--You are a child, Nora.

_Nora_ (_tosses her head and crosses the stage_). You ought not to be so
superior.

_Mrs. Linde_. No?

_Nora_. You are just like all the others. They all think that I am
incapable of anything really serious--

_Mrs. Linde_. Come, come--

_Nora_.--that I have gone through nothing in this world of cares.

_Mrs. Linde_. But, my dear Nora, you have just told me all your
troubles.

_Nora_. Pooh!--those were trifles. (_Lowering her voice_.) I have not
told you the important thing.

_Mrs. Linde_. The important thing? What do you mean?

_Nora_. You look down upon me altogether, Christine--but you ought not
to. You are proud, aren't you, of having-worked so hard and so long for
your mother?