OCEANA. I'm just getting some of the civilization out of my lungs.
[A furious gale blows.]
MRS. MASTERSON. Really, my dear, we shall have to leave the room. We'll all catch our death of cold.
OCEANA. My dear Aunt Sophronia, nobody ever caught a cold from winter air. Colds come from over-eating and bad ventilation. [She closes the window.] However, there you are! [Eagerly.] Now, let's have something beautiful—so that I can forget my blunders. Let's have some music. Will you play for me, Cousin Letitia?
LETITIA. I don't play, my dear.
OCEANA. What? Why, father told me you played all the time!
LETITIA. That was before my marriage.
OCEANA. Oh, I see! [Laughs.] The music has accomplished its purpose! [Stops, alarmed.] Oh! I've done it again! [Goes to LETITIA.] My dear cousin, believe me, I meant no offense. I'm never personal. I was simply formulating a principle of sociology!
MRS. MASTERSON. You have strange ways, my dear niece.
DR. MASTERSON. Are you always so direct, so ruthless?