AUNTIE. _The Society for the Extension of Greater Usefulness among the Clergy_. . . . It was an admirable suggestion--one that ought to appeal particularly to you. Haven't you always said, yourself, that if only you had enough money to . . .

VICAR. Did you happen to realise his explanation as to the const.i.tution of the society?

AUNTIE. To tell the truth, I wasn't listening just then: I was thinking of you.

VICAR. The _financial_ possibilities of the scheme--Did his eloquence on that point escape you?

AUNTIE. Figures always bore me, and James uses dreadfully long words.

VICAR. Did you hear nothing of _profits_?

AUNTIE. I only heard him say that you were to . . .

VICAR. Well, didn't it strike you that throughout the entire discussion he spoke rather like a _tradesman_?

AUNTIE. My dear, you can't expect everybody to be an idealist!

Remember, he's a practical man: he's a bishop.

VICAR. Didn't it strike you that there are some things in this world which are not to be bought at _any_ price?

AUNTIE. My dear William, bricks and mortar require money: you can't run a society without funds!

VICAR. Yes, but what of flesh and blood? What of reputation?

What of a man's name?

AUNTIE. Whatever do you mean now?

VICAR. Didn't his proposal practically amount to this: that we should turn my brother Joshua's name and reputation into a bogus Building Society, of which the funds were to be sc.r.a.ped together from all the naked bodies and the starving bellies of the world, whilst _we_ and our thieving co-directors should collar all the swag?

AUNTIE. Now, that's exactly where I think you are so unjust!

Didn't you yourself refuse, before he spoke a word, to let him put a penny of his own into the concern? I must say, you were unnecessarily rude to him about that, William!

VICAR. Yes, and didn't he jump at the suggestion!

AUNTIE. He offers to give his patronage, his influence, his time.

All he asks of your brother is his bare name.

VICAR. Yes, and all he asks of me is simply my eloquence, my gift of words, my power of lying plausibly!

AUNTIE. William, he is offering you the opportunity of your life!

VICAR. d.a.m.nation take my life!

AUNTIE. William, why are you so violent?

VICAR. Because violence is the only way of coming to the truth between you and me!

AUNTIE [now thoroughly afraid]. What do you mean by the truth, William?

VICAR. I mean this: What is the building of this church to you?

Are you so mightily interested in architecture, in clerical _usefulness_, in the furtherance of G.o.d's work?

AUNTIE. I am interested in your work, William. Do you take me for an atheist?

VICAR. No: far worse--for an idolater!

AUNTIE. William . . .

VICAR. What else but idolatry is this precious husband-worship you have set up in your heart--you and all the women of your kind? You barter away your own souls in the service of it: you build up your idols in the fashion of your own respectable desires: you struggle silently amongst yourselves, one against another, to push your own G.o.d foremost in the miserable little pantheon of prigs and hypocrites you have created!

AUNTIE [roused]. It is for your own good we do it!

VICAR. Our own good! What have you made of me? You have plucked me down from whatever native G.o.dhead I had by gift of heaven, and hewed and hacked me into the semblance of your own idolatrous imagination! By G.o.d, it shall go on no longer! If you have made me less than a man, at least I will prove myself to be a priest!

AUNTIE. Do you call it a priest's work to . . .

VICAR. It is _my_ work to deliver you and me from the bondage of lies! Can't you see, woman, that G.o.d and Mammon are about us, fighting for our souls?

AUNTIE [determinedly]. Listen to me, William, listen to me . . .

VICAR. I have listened to you too long!

AUNTIE. You would always take my counsel before . . .

VICAR. All that is done with! I am resolved to be a free man from this hour--free of lies, free of love if needs be, free even of you, free of everything that clogs and hinders me in the work I have to do! I will do my own deed, not yours!

AUNTIE [with deadly quietness]. If I were not certain of one thing, I could never forgive you for those cruel words: William, this is some madness of sin that has seized you: it is the temptation of the devil!

VICAR. It is the call of G.o.d!

AUNTIE [still calmly]. That's blasphemy, William! But I will save you--yes, I will--in spite of yourself. I am stronger than you.

[They look at each other steadily for a moment, neither yielding,]

VICAR. Then I accept the challenge! It is G.o.d and I against you, Martha!

AUNTIE. G.o.d and I against _you_, William.

VICAR. So now--for my work!

AUNTIE [quietly]. Yes: what are you going to do?

VICAR. Three things.

AUNTIE. Yes--and they? . . .

VICAR. Tell Mary everything: send for my brother, Robert: and then--answer that monster in there.

AUNTIE [fearfully]. William, you would never dare! . . .