As I ascended the stairs, I heard the following bit of dialogue, accompanied by a dramatic flourish of background music:
Young (?) female voice: Why mother, you have invited the murderer who killed your husband into your house and are giving him food. Are you not ashamed of yourself?
And then, after a pause, tha same voice: Will you go out yourself or wait for me to tell you to leave?
By this time, I had entered my apartment.
Strangely enough, my interest was not piqued enough to turn on the television!