[A convulsive shiver passes over STRANGWAY, and he shrinks
against the door]

But come! Live it down!

[With anger growing at his silence]

Live it down, man! You can't desert your post--and let these
villagers do what they like with us? Do you realize that you're
letting a woman, who has treated you abominably;--yes, abominably
--go scot-free, to live comfortably with another man? What an
example!

STRANGWAY. Will you, please, not speak of that!

MRS. BRADMERE. I must! This great Church of ours is based on the
rightful condemnation of wrongdoing. There are times when
forgiveness is a sin, Michael Strangway. You must keep the whip
hand. You must fight!

STRANGWAY. Fight! [Touching his heart] My fight is here. Have you
ever been in hell? For months and months--burned and longed; hoped
against hope; killed a man in thought day by day? Never rested, for
love and hate? I--condemn! I--judge! No! It's rest I have to
find--somewhere--somehow-rest! And how--how can I find rest?

MRS. BRADMERE. [Who has listened to his outburst in a soft of coma]
You are a strange man! One of these days you'll go off your head if
you don't take care.