but, God knows, you make it rather
difficult!

[A change comes over her face, as the curtain slowly falls.]

THE THIRD ACT

As the curtain rises, the scene and situation remain unchanged; but
attention now centres in the Bishop, who appears to be struggling
apoplectically for speech.

BISHOP [bursting]. Before we proceed a step further, I have a most
extraordinary request to make! The fact is, you interrupted me in
the middle of a most engrossing spiritual discussion with my . . .
that is to say, with your . . . in short, with that person
standing over there! My request is, that I be permitted a few
minutes further conversation with him--alone, and at once!

ALL. ) With Manson! . . .
MANSON. ) With me! . . .

BISHOP. Not a word! I know my request will appear singular--most
singular! But I assure you it is most necessary. The peace, the
security of a human soul depends upon it! Come, sir! Where shall
we go?

MANSON. Have I your permission, ma'am

AUNTIE. Certainly; but it is most extraordinary!

MANSON [crossing]. Then I think this way, my lord, in the
drawing-room . . . [He leads the way.]

BISHOP [following]. And you may be sure, my good fellow, I will
give anything--I say, anything--to remedy your misapprehensions!
Hm!

[They go into the drawing-room, right, MANSON holding the door for
the other to pass.]

VICAR. Martha! It's no use! I can't do it!

AUNTIE [preoccupied]. Can't do what, William?

VICAR. Behave towards that man like a Christian! He stirs some
nameless devil like murder in my heart! I want to clutch him by
the throat, as I would some noisome beast, and strangle him!

AUNTIE [slowly]. He is greatly changed!

VICAR. It is you who have changed, Martha. You see him now with
different eyes.

AUNTIE. Do I? I wonder! . . .

VICAR. After all, why should we invite him here? Why should we be
civil to him? What possible kinship can there be between us? As
for his filthy money--how did he scrape it together? How did he
come by it? . . .

AUNTIE. Yes, William, that's true, but the opportunity of turning
it to God's service . . .

VICAR. Do you think any blessing is going to fall upon a church
whose every stone is reeking with the bloody sweat and anguish of
the human creatures whom the wealth of men like that has driven to
despair? Shall we base God's altar in the bones of harlots,
plaster it up with the slime of sweating-dens and slums, give