MRS. CLANDON. I see you want to ask your question. Ask it.

DOLLY AND PHILIP (beginning simultaneously). Who--- (They stop.)

PHILIP. Now look here, Dolly: am I going to conduct this business or
are you?

DOLLY. You.

PHILIP. Then hold your mouth. (Dolly does so literally.) The
question is a simple one. When the ivory snatcher---

MRS. CLANDON (remonstrating). Phil!

PHILIP. Dentist is an ugly word. The man of ivory and gold asked us
whether we were the children of Mr. Densmore Clandon of Newbury Hall.
In pursuance of the precepts in your treatise on Twentieth Century
Conduct, and your repeated personal exhortations to us to curtail the
number of unnecessary lies we tell, we replied truthfully the we didn't
know.

DOLLY. Neither did we.

PHILIP. Sh! The result was that the gum architect made considerable
difficulties about accepting our invitation to lunch, although I doubt
if he has had anything but tea and bread and butter for a fortnight
past. Now my knowledge of human nature leads me to believe that we had
a father, and that you probably know who he was.