. ah, I can't bear to think of it!

MRS. MASTERSON. What?

OCEANA. You wouldn't let me tell you what. [In a low voice.] Imagine
my people, my beautiful people, with the soft, brown skins and the big
black eyes, and hair like the curtains of night. They are not savages,
you understand... they are gentle and kindly. They ride the rushing
breakers in their frail canoes, they fish and gather fruits in the
forests, they dream in the soft, warm sunshine... they are happy,
they are care-free, their whole life is a song. And they are trusting,
hospitable... the wonderful white strangers come, and they take them
into their homes, and open their hearts to them. And the strangers go
away and leave them a ghastly disease, that rages like a fire in their
palm-thatched cabins, that sweeps through their villages like a tornado.
And the women's hair falls out... they wither up... they're old hags
in a year or two. And the babies... I've helped bring them into the
world... and they had no lips... their noses were gone! They were
idiots... blind...

MRS. MASTERSON. [Wildly.] Anna Talbot! I must beg you to have a little
discretion!

LETITIA. Why should we hear about these things, Oceana?

OCEANA. My dear, it comes from America. The ships came from here! There
was one of them I saw... "The Mary Jane, of Boston, Mass."

MRS. MASTERSON. No doubt, among such low men... men of vile life. ..
sailors...

OCEANA. No, Aunt Sophronia... you're mistaken! It's everywhere. Isn't
it, Uncle Quincy? You're a doctor... YOU must know!

DR. MASTERSON. Why, to tell the truth...

OCEANA. TELL the truth! Am I not right?

FREDDY. Of course you're right!

MRS. MASTERSON. Freddy!

OCEANA. Ah! You know!

MRS. MASTERSON. This is outrageous!

OCEANA. You mean you don't teach your children about it? Why...

[She stares at them, perplexed.]

MRS. MASTERSON. You don't understand our ways, Anna...

OCEANA. No, no... I don't. I don't think I ever can. You'd let some man
come and make love to Ethel... and you'd never warn her?

ETHEL. They warned me to turn my toes out when I walked, and not to eat
fish with a knife.

MRS. MASTERSON. If this conversation is to go on, I insist that the
children shall leave the room.

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 gro