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?

OCEANA. That's the word, isn't it? That's what father taught me. Never
to think about personalities . . . to go after the truth! He used to