Ah, how she loved hats! But she had handsome ways, for all that, when she said, 'Come along with us, Josephine!' So I brought you up, I did, and sacrificed everything...." Overcome by the mention of the past, Mame's speech and action both cease.

She chokes and wags her head and wipes her face with her sleeve.
I risk saying, gently, "Yes, I know it well." A sigh is my answer.

She lights the fire.

The coal sends out a cushion of smoke, which expands and rolls up the stove, falls back, and piles its muslin on the floor.

Mame manipulates the stove with her feet in the cloudy deposit; and the hazy white hair which escapes from her black cap is also like smoke.
Then she seeks her handkerchief and pats her pockets to get the velvet coal-dust off her fingers.