Mr. Webb: (after finding out his daughter is pregnant) You'll stay around the house from now on. I don't want you going into town. I'll go into the bank tomorrow and see about the farm getting sold.
Sylvia: Where will we go?
Mr. Webb: I don't know. Doesn't matter. Someplace where folks don't know us. We'll tell them your husband was killed in an accident.
Sylvia: You blame me for this, don't you? Don't you?
Mr. Webb: You reap what you sow. (leaves the room)