All that pretty furniture?
Hugh.
Sold it.
Paula.
I came across the key of the escritoire the other day in an old purse! [Suddenly realising the horror and hopelessness of her position, and starting to her feet with an hysterical cry of rage.] What am I maundering about?
Hugh.
For God's sake, be quiet! Do let me think.
Paula.
This will send me mad! [Suddenly turning and standing over him.] You—you beast, to crop up in my life again like this!
Hugh.