Sydney. Whom do you want to see?
Hilary. [Losing all control] Who are you?
Sydney. [Slowly] I think I’m your daughter. [Hilary stares at her blankly. Then he bursts out laughing.]
Hilary. Daughter! Daughter! By God, that’s good! My wife isn’t my wife, she’s my daughter! And my daughter’s seventeen and I’m twenty-two.
Sydney. You’re forgetting what years and years—
Hilary. Yes, of course. It’s years and years. It’s a life-time. It’s my daughter’s lifetime. What’s your name—daughter?
Sydney. Sydney.
Hilary. Sydney. Sydney, eh? My mother was Sydney. I like Sydney. I— [catching at his dignity] I suppose we’re rather a shock to each other—Sydney.
Sydney. No. You’re not a shock to me. But I’m afraid—
Hilary. [Breaking in] Is my—? Is your—? Where’s Margaret?