hall-door as I go out. I'll wish you good evening! [_He goes out;
presently the dull sound of a thick letter dropping into a wire box is
heard._

_Nora_ (_softly, and hoarsely_). He's done it! How _am_ I to prevent
TORVALD from seeing it?

_Helmer_ (_inside the door, rattling_). Hasn't my lark changed its
dress yet? (NORA _unbolts door_.) What--so you are _not_ in fancy
costume, after all? (_Enters with_ RANK.) Are there any letters for me
in the box there?

_Nora_ (_voicelessly_). None--not even a postcard! Oh, TORVALD, don't,
please, go and look--_promise_ me you won't! I do _assure_ you there
isn't a letter! And I've forgotten the Tarantella you taught me--do
let's run over it. I'm so afraid of breaking down--promise me not to
look at the letter-box. I can't dance unless you do.

_Helmer_ (_standing still, on his way to the letter-box_). I am a man
of strict business habits, and some powers of observation; my little
squirrel's assurances that there is nothing in the box, combined with
her obvious anxiety that I should not go and see for myself, satisfy
me that it is indeed empty, in spite of the fact that I have
not invariably found her a strictly truthful little dicky-bird.
There--there. (_Sits down to piano._) Bang away on your tambourine,
little squirrel--dance away, my own lark!

_Nora_ (_dancing, with a long gay shawl_). Just _won't_ the little
squirrel! Faster--faster! Oh, I _do_ feel so gay! We will have some
champagne for dinner, _won't_ we, TORVALD? [_Dances with more and more