morning,
noon
`` The same ? '' the girl asked incredulously . `` Certainly . Mine is based on intelligence , however -- yours on blind instinct perverted and twisted by the idiotic fiction you read morning , noon and night . '' `` I do n't see it , '' Mary answered emphatically . `` Your ideal is fame , achievement , the applause of the world -- mine just a home and a baby -- '' Jane laughed softly . `` And that 's all you know about me ? ''