Mildred Pierce1945

Mildred:
Look, Monte, I've worked long and hard trying to give Veda the things I never had. I've done without a lot of things, including happiness sometimes, because I wanted her to have everything. And now I'm losing her. She's drifting away from me. She hardly speaks to me anymore except to ask for money, or poke fun at me in French because I work for a living...I blame it on the way she's been living. I blame it on you.

Monte:
I don't think you understand Veda very well. She's not like you. You'll never make a waitress out of her.

Mildred:
You look down on me because I work for a living, don't you? You always have. All right, I work. I cook food and sell it and make a profit on it - which I might point out you're not too proud to share with me.

Monte:
Yes, I take money from you, Mildred. But not enough to make me like kitchens or cooks. They smell of grease.

Mildred:
I don't notice you shrinking away from a $50 dollar bill because it happens to smell of grease. You're interfering with my life and my business. And worst of all, you're interfering with my plans for Veda and I won't stand for it.

Monte:
You can go back to making your pies now, Mildred. We're through.