And then, look at the opportunities it creates for you!  Not only the church, William, the beautiful big church of your dreams, with the great spires and flashing crosses and glorious windows; but a much larger sphere of usefulness than you ever dared to dream!  Think of your work, William, of your great gifts—­even James had to acknowledge them, didn’t he?—­Think of the influence for good you will be able to wield!  Ah!  And then I shall see my beloved, himself again—­No more worry, no more feverish nights and days, none of the wretched frets and fancies that have been troubling him all this morning; but the great Scholar and Saint again, the master of men’s souls, the priest in the congregation!

VICAR.  Suppose you try and forget me for a moment.  Do you think you can?

AUNTIE.  William, that’s unkind!  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?