Sydney. He’ll get over it. Men—they’re not like us.
Hilary. [Timidly] You loved him?
Sydney. What’s that to anyone but me?
Hilary. [Peering at her] You’re crying.
Sydney. I’m not.
Hilary. You love him?
Sydney. I suppose so.
Hilary. Then why? Then why?
Sydney. We’re in the same boat, Father.
Miss Fairfield. Yes, that’s the way they talk now, Hilary. They know too much, the young women. It upsets everything.