Sir A. Beastly.
Cecilia. What? Did the motor break down, or the weather?
Sir A. Neither.
Cecilia. What was wrong, then?
Sir A. Everything. (Then suddenly) Where have the Pomeroys gone to, Miss Evesham?
Cecilia. To Torquay, I understand.
Sir A. Do you know their address?
Cecilia. I do not. I suppose they will be at one of the hotels.
Sir A. You are making fun of me. Tell me where they are. I am in earnest.
Cecilia. So am I. I do not know their address.