HILDEGARDE ( going straight on ). For the last day or two father had been giving me such queer little digs every now and then that I began to suspect he knew who Sampson Straight was. So I asked him right out this morning—he was in bed—and he had to acknowledge he did know and that you told him.
TRANTO. Well, I didn't exactly tell him. He sort of guessed, and I—
HILDEGARDE ( calmly, relentlessly ). You told him.
TRANTO. No. I merely admitted it. You think I ought to have denied it?
HILDEGARDE. Of course you ought to have denied it.
TRANTO. But it was true.
HILDEGARDE. And if it was?
TRANTO. If it was true, how could I deny it? You've just said you hate liars.
HILDEGARDE ( losing self-control ). Please don't be absurd.
TRANTO ( a little nettled ). I apologise.