_Helmer_. You are an odd little soul. Very like your father. You always
find some new way of wheedling money out of me, and, as soon as you have
got it, it seems to melt in your hands. You never know where it has
gone. Still, one must take you as you are. It is in the blood; for
indeed it is true that you can inherit these things, Nora.

_Nora_. Ah, I wish I had inherited many of papa's qualities.

_Helmer_. And I would not wish you to be anything but just what you are,
my sweet little skylark. But, do you know, it strikes me that you are
looking rather--what shall I say--rather uneasy today?

_Nora_. Do I?

_Helmer_. You do, really. Look straight at me.

_Nora_ (_looks at him_). Well?

_Helmer_ (_wagging his finger at her_). Hasn't Miss Sweet-Tooth been
breaking rules in town today?

_Nora_. No; what makes you think that?

_Helmer_. Hasn't she paid a visit to the confectioner's?

_Nora_. No, I assure you, Torvald--

_Helmer_. Not been nibbling sweets?