MILDRED—[Dreamily.] With her pipe beside her—puffing in Paradise.
AUNT—[With spite.] Yes, you are a natural born ghoul. You are even getting to look like one, my dear.
MILDRED—[In a passionless tone.] I detest you,Aunt. [Looking at her critically.] Do you know what you remind me of? Of a cold pork pudding against a background of linoleum tablecloth in the kitchen of a—but the possibilities are wearisome. [She closes hereyes.]