MRS KNOX. [lost in wonder] But how could you bring yourself to do it,
Margaret? I'm not blaming you: I only want to know. How could you bring
yourself to do it?
MARGARET. I cant tell you. I dont understand it myself. The prayer
meeting set me free, somehow. I should never have done it if it were not
for the prayer meeting.
MRS KNOX. [deeply horrified] Oh, dont say such a thing as that. I know
that prayer can set us free; though you could never understand me when I
told you so; but it sets us free for good, not for evil.
MARGARET. Then I suppose what I did was not evil; or else I was set free
for evil as well as good. As father says, you cant have anything both
ways at once. When I was at home and at school I was what you call good;
but I wasnt free. And when I got free I was what most people would call
not good. But I see no harm in what I did; though I see plenty in what
other people did to me.
MRS KNOX. I hope you dont think yourself a heroine of romance.
MARGARET. Oh no. [She sits down again at the table]. I'm a heroine of
reality, if you can call me a heroine at all. And reality is pretty
brutal, pretty filthy, when you come to grips with it. Yet it's glorious
all the same. It's so real and satisfactory.
MRS KNOX. I dont like this spirit in you, Margaret. I dont like your
talking to me in that tone.
MARGARET. It's no use, mother. I dont care for you and Papa any the
less; but I shall never get back to the old way of talking again. Ive
made a sort of descent into hell--
MRS KNOX. Margaret! Such a word!
MARGARET. You should have heard all the words that were flying round
that night. You should mix a little with people who dont know any
other words. But when I said that about a descent into hell I was not
swearing. I was in earnest, like a preacher.
MRS KNOX. A preacher utters them in a reverent tone of voice.
MARGARET. I know: the tone that shews they dont mean anything real to
him. They usent to mean anything real to me. Now hell is as real to me
as a turnip; and I suppose I shall always speak of it like that. Anyhow,
Ive been there; and it seems to me now that nothing is worth doing but
redeeming people from it.
MRS KNOX. They are redeemed already if they choose to believe it.
MARGARET. Whats the use of that if they dont choose to believe it? You
dont believe it yourself, or you wouldnt pay policemen to twist their
arms. Whats the good of pretending? Thats all our respectability is,
pretending, pretending, pretending. Thank heaven Ive had it knocked out
of me once for all!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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