OCEANA. Oh, I'm awfully sorry, Aunt Sophronia! Why, I didn't mean any
harm. It's all so real to me. [She gazes from one to the other, hoping
for some sign of a thaw.] Just think . . . these were the people that
I'd loved . . . that I'd grown up with all my life. I'd fished in
their canoes, I'd hunted with them and basked on the beach with them.
I'd watched the young men and girls dancing their love-dances in the
moonlit glades . . . [She pauses again.] Oughtn't I to talk about
THAT?

DR. MASTERSON. My dear girl . . .

OCEANA. [Stares at them; a sudden idea occurs to her.] Perhaps I ought
to explain to you . . . you're no doubt wondering. I'm a virgin
myself, you know.

MRS. MASTERSON. [Starting up.] OH!

LETITIA. Oceana!

OCEANA. But weren't you thinking of that?

MRS. MASTERSON. Why, of course not!

OCEANA. But Aunt Sophronia! You know you were!

MRS. MASTERSON. [Sputters.] Oh! OH!

OCEANA. You were thinking to yourself, this girl's been playing around
on the beaches with savages . . . and what's been happening to her?