MANSON. No! And, therefore, it is my office to command you now!

Sit down, and hear me speak!

VICAR. He has been sent to help us! Martha, this is God!

MANSON. Over here, please. [He points to the settee.]

AUNTIE. I . . . I . . .

[MANSON still points. She wavers as in a dream, and at length
moves mechanically across the room, obeying him.]

MANSON. Now, let me tell you exactly why you have sent for me
here. There is a strange and wretched turmoil in your soul: you
have done wrong, and you know it--but you don't know all! You
would keep what miserable little right you have by bolstering it up
with further wrong. And you have sent for me to help you in that
wrong!

AUNTIE. How dare you say that?

MANSON. Haven't you sent for me to help you in your plans about
his brother, Robert?

AUNTIE [faintly]. What plans? . . .

MANSON. The plan of banishing him further from your lives than
ever! The plan of _providing_ for him! The plan of patching up