Stuart: So, what do you do with your time? You work?
Skeeter: I write… But right now, I’m working on a domestic maintenance column for The Jackson Journal.
Stuart: You mean housekeeping. Jesus, I can’t think of anything worse than reading a cleaning column except for maybe writing one.
Skeeter: Well, I can. Working with a bunch of greasy, stinky men in the middle of the ocean.
Stuart: Well, sounds to me like a ploy to find a husband becoming an expert at keeping house.
Skeeter: Well, aren’t you a genius? You figured out my whole scheme.
Stuart: Isn’t that what all you girls from Ole Miss major in? Professional husband hunting.
[Hilly and her husband return to the table.] Skeeter: I’m sorry. But were you dropped on your head as an infant? Or were you just born stupid?
[Skeeter storms off while Stuart remains at the table laughing.]