nkind! Of course I can't.

VICAR. It might mean the salvation of my soul.

AUNTIE. Oh, William! Now you're going to begin to worry again!

VICAR. Oh no: I'm quite calm. Your brother's powers of reasoning
have left me philosophical. . . .

Tell me, are you quite sure that you have grasped the full meaning
of his project?

AUNTIE. Of course! You think no one can understand a simple
business dealing but men! Women are every bit as clever!

VICAR. Well, then, this project: what was it?

AUNTIE. James explained clearly enough: the affiliation of your
brother's scheme with that of the society he mentioned.

VICAR. Yes--_what_ society?

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
constitution 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 scraped 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