MILES (eagerly): She's a—a fine girl, isn't she? A fine girl.
MRS. BREWSTER: Why, yes. Of course, Priscilla has her faults but she'd make some man a fine wife—some man who knew how to handle her—an older man, with experience.
MILES: Do you really think so, Mrs. Brewster? (After a minute.) Do you think Priscilla is thinking about marrying anybody in particular?
MRS. BREWSTER: Well, I can't say, Captain. You know—she's a little wild. Her mother was wild, too, you know—that is, before the Lord spoke to her. They say she used to be seen at the Mermaid Tavern in London with all those play-acting people. She always used to say that Priscilla would marry a military man.
MILES: A military man? Well, now tell me Mrs. Brewster, do you think that a sweet delicate creature like Priscilla—
A VOICE (in the next room): Oh DAMN!
MRS. BREWSTER: That must be Priscilla now.
THE VOICE: Auntie!
MRS. BREWSTER: Yes, Priscilla dear.
THE VOICE: Where in hell did you put the vermouth?