For a second or two she looked at the stained wallpaper, the greasy toilet table, the whole dirty little room as it basked in the pale sunlight.

Then she paused in front of the count and spoke with quiet directness.
"It's strange how rich men fancy they can have everything for their money.

Well, and if I don't want to consent--what then?
I don't care a pin for your presents! You might give me Paris, and yet I should say no! Always no! Look here, it's scarcely clean in this room, yet I should think it very nice if I wanted to live in it with you.

But one's fit to kick the bucket in your palaces if one isn't in love.

Ah, as to money, my poor pet, I can lay my hands on that if I want to, but I tell you, I trample on it; I spit on it!" And with that she assumed a disgusted expression.