Text of conversation:

Harry: Nora! Nora!

Nora: [bad word] into the room/: Yes, what is it now, Harry?

Harry: Oh, there you are. Look here, Nora, I'm tired of lying here on my back with nothing to do. I hate doing nothing.

Nora: Don't be silly, Harry. you've got a temperature, and just be quiet, and stop preventing me from doing my housework.

Harry: No, seriously, Nora, I can't bear it. Lying flat on my back.

Nora: Well, then, try lying on your stomach for a change!

Harry: Stop being funny. I'm going to get up. There. Look, I'm standing up. I'm quite all right. What's the use of staying in bed?

Nora: I think you're being very silly. You'll only make your temperature go up again.

Harry: It's no use talking, Nora - being in bed doesn't suit me.

Nora: No - and trying to nurse you doesn't suit me!

Harry: Now don't be bitter about it. You know I'm grateful to you for looking after me. But you mustn't try to keep me in bed like a naughty boy.

Nora: Well, you begin it, by behaving like a naughty

boy!

Harry: I’m all against this staying in bed for no reason.

Nora: Harry, being ill is a reason… Now don’t stand by

that window and catch another cold… Let me see,

half past eleven –

Harry: Why do you keep looking at the clock?

Nora: I’m expecting Mother – [bad word] over for the

day.

Harry: Good heavens, I didn’t know that.

Nora: Yes, I think she has something she wants to talk to

you about.

Harry: Oh heavens! Has she? /groans/… You know, Nora, I

do feel a bit ill; perhaps I had better get back to

bed.

Nora: /Disingenuously/: Oh, what a pity! I thought

perhaps you night stay up to see her.

Harry: /To himself/: That’s the very reason I’m getting

back into bed!

Nora: What did you say?

Harry: Oh, her – nothing.