AUNTIE. It's here, dear. I have it warming for you. VICAR [more graciously]. Oh, thank you, Martha. That will do, then, Rogers. Tell Manson to hurry up. [ROGERS helps him on and goes out. The cassock is left lying on the long stool by the window.] [The VICAR crosses moodily to the fireplace. AUNTIE stands undecided, watching him, the letter in her hand.] AUNTIE. You're back early, dear. VICAR. What can you expect? Not a soul there, of course! AUNTIE. My poor William! I'm glad I thought to hurry up the breakfast. VICAR. Thanks, dear. You are always thoughtful. AUNTIE. William . . . [He looks up.] I--I want to have a little talk with you. VICAR. What is it? Any more--worry? AUNTIE. You needn't make it so. VICAR.. Ah! AUNTIE [moving over to him and stroking his hair]. My dearest is not well. VICAR. I think you are right, Martha. I am not well. AUNTIE [alarmed]. Not the trouble with your heart again? VICAR. No; I fancy it goes deeper than that! AUNTIE. William! What do you mean? VICAR [suddenly facing her]. Martha! Do you know the sort of man you have been living with all these years? Do you see through me? Do you know me?--No: don't speak: I see your answer already--Your own love blinds you! Ha! I am a good man!--I don't drink, I don't swear, I am respectable, I don't blaspheme like Bletchley! Oh yes, and I am a scholar: I can cackle in Greek: I can wrangle about God's name: I know Latin and Hebrew and all the cursed little pedantries of my trade! But do you know what I am? Do you know what your husband is in the sight of God? He is a LIAR! AUNTIE. William! VICAR. A liar! I heard it in my ears as I stood up before Christ's altar in the church this morning, reciting my miserable creed! I heard it in my prayers! I heard it whilst I tasted . . . whilst I drank . . . whilst I . . . [He sinks into a chair, and buries his face in his hands.] AUNTIE. Oh, you are ill! VICAR [breaking down]. O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me out of the body of this death? [She stands above him, hesitating. After a moment, she says, determinedly.] AUNTIE. I know: it's this money trouble. It's what Joshua said in his letter about your having to get somebody to help him. Well, that's just what I wanted to speak to you about. I have a way out of the difficulty. VICAR. It's not the church. I could wish every Stone of it were crumbled into dust! AUNTIE. William, how wicked of you! . . . Is it--is it anything to do with your brother Joshua? Why don't you answer? VICAR. _It has to do with my brother--Robert_. AUNTIE. Mary's fa . . . William, did you send him that telegram yesterday? VICAR. Yes: that was a lie, too! AUNTIE. Nonsense! Don't be absurd! VICAR. It was a lie! AUNTIE. You told him we couldn't do with him because the house was upset: that's true! You told him that the drains were up in the study: that's true!