NORA. Good afternoon, Doctor Rank. I knew you by your ring. But you mustn’t go to Torvald now. I believe he’s busy. RANK. And you? [_Enters and closes the door._ NORA. Oh, you know very well, I have always time for you. RANK. Thank you. I shall avail myself of your kindness as long as I can. NORA. What do you mean? As long as you can? RANK. Yes. Does _that_ frighten you? NORA. I think it’s an odd expression. Do you expect anything to happen? RANK. Something I have long been prepared for; but I didn’t think it would come so soon. NORA. [_Catching at his arm._] What have you discovered? Doctor Rank, you must tell me! RANK. [_Sitting down by the stove._] I am running down hill. There’s no help for it. NORA. [_Draws a long breath of relief._] It’s _you_——? RANK. Who else should it be?—Why lie to one’s self? I am the most wretched of all my patients, Mrs. Helmer. In these last days I have been auditing my life-account—bankrupt! Perhaps before a month is over, I shall lie rotting in the churchyard. NORA. Oh! What an ugly way to talk. RANK. The thing itself is so confoundedly ugly, you see. But the worst of it is, so many other ugly things have to be gone through first. There is only one last investigation to be made, and when that is over I shall know pretty certainly when the break-up will begin. There’s one thing I want to say to you: Helmer’s delicate nature shrinks so from all that is horrible: I will not have him in my sick-room—— NORA. But, Doctor Rank—— RANK. I won’t have him, I say—not on any account! I shall lock my door against him.—As soon as I am quite certain of the worst, I shall send you my visiting-card with a black cross on it; and then you will know that the final horror has begun. NORA. Why, you’re perfectly unreasonable to-day; and I did so want you to be in a really good humour. RANK. With death staring me in the face?—And to suffer thus for another’s sin! Where’s the justice of it? And in one way or another you can trace in every family some such inexorable retribution—— NORA. [_Stopping her ears._] Nonsense, nonsense! Now cheer up! RANK. Well, after all, the whole thing’s only worth laughing at. My poor innocent spine must do penance for my father’s wild oats.