"I don't give a damn or a wild pig's snort," she replied.
"Don't be vulgar," Donald said. "Let's keep this on a civilized plane."
"That's not vulgarity," she answered. "It's poetry. 'I don't give a damn or a wild pig's snort, but you cut just one strand and the fashions be damned, I swear that I'll boil three in lime!'"
"Lime?" Victor asked rather weakly.
"I think so, dear," Mimi said. "Would you care for a martini?"
"How about the toilet!" Donald suddenly thundered. "How about that, hey?"
"I beg your pardon," Mimi replied.
"The toilets, the toilets," he repeated impatiently. "Do you want to spend the rest of your short life with this old-fashioned plumbing?" He waved wildly toward the tile bathroom. "It's all right roughing it for a few months like we did, but can you honestly imagine spending the rest of your life under such vile conditions? Ha, you didn't think of that, did you?" he continued when he saw the sudden stricken expression on her face. "You don't like the idea, do you?"
Mimi clenched her fists at her side and stamped her little foot. "I don't care," she spit out, "I absolutely do not care! I will stay with him, I will, I will, I will." She turned and looked at the bathroom that opened off the bedroom, and blanched for one moment, then she shut her eyes, gave another kick, and insisted. "I will, I will, I will!"