She has scrubbed her domain until it glistens; she is about to pour the bleach down the sink, and after that nothing remains but putting the rag - the filthy, filthy rag - into the laundry basket. Who should appear but a friend whose every aspect - her character, her personal standards of comportment, her very thoughts - make the homemaker think of a place of dreaey, daily filth? She cannot even summon up the image of a commode, retreating to an image of the instruments of ablution and purification.