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 God'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
god foremost in the miserable little pantheon of prigs and
hypocrites you have created!

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