MISS CAREY: (Sharply.) I'm not married.
ANGELA: (Weeping copiously and shivering.) Well, then, you needn't bother, dear, about the weather, 'cause you never will be married.
MISS CAREY: No, I never will—catch me selling my freedom to any selfish brute of a man.
ANGELA: (As before.) See, I knew it. I said to myself, that little lady on the second floor who makes dresses with a long, thin nose—
MISS CAREY: (Outraged.) Makes dresses with a long, thin nose?
ANGELA: Yes—she's the only one in the whole apartment house I can go to—she's the only one won't give Harry right.
MISS CAREY: No man is ever right.
ANGELA: I'm commencing to believe all men are brutes.
MISS CAREY: Of course they are. (Commencing to thaw.) Have a cup of tea. (She goes to table to prepare tea things.)
ANGELA: Thanks—I brought my own tea with me. (Takes a little paper bag of tea out of one of the slippers and crosses to MISS CAREY.) If I had struck him with the vase, I could understand his calling me "Vixen" (Beginning to weep again.)—but I only flung it at him, 'cause I cracked it by accident in the morning, and I didn't want him to find it out. He was always calling me "butter-fingers." (Sits at opposite side of table.)