CHRISTINE. I paste, I paste.
THE DAUGHTER. [Pale and emaciated, sits by the stove] You shut out all the air. I choke!
CHRISTINE. Now there is only one little crack left.
THE DAUGHTER. Air, air—I cannot breathe!
CHRISTINE. I paste, I paste.
THE LAWYER. That's right, Christine! Heat is expensive.
THE DAUGHTER. Oh, it feels as if my lips were being glued together.
THE LAWYER. [Standing in the doorway, with a paper in his hand] Is the child asleep?
THE DAUGHTER. Yes, at last.
THE LAWYER. [Gently] All this crying scares away my clients.