To tell the truth, I wasn't listening just then: I was
thinking of you.
VICAR. The _financial_ possibilities of the scheme--Did his
eloquence on that point escape you?
AUNTIE. Figures always bore me, and James uses dreadfully long
words.
VICAR. Did you hear nothing of _profits_?
AUNTIE. I only heard him say that you were to . . .
VICAR. Well, didn't it strike you that throughout the entire
discussion he spoke rather like a _tradesman_?
AUNTIE. My dear, you can't expect everybody to be an idealist!
Remember, he's a practical man: he's a bishop.
VICAR. Didn't it strike you that there are some things in this
world which are not to be bought at _any_ price?
AUNTIE. My dear William, bricks and mortar require money: you
can't run a society without funds!
VICAR. Yes, but what of flesh and blood? What of reputation?
What of a man's name?
AUNTIE. Whatever do you mean now?
VICAR. Didn't his proposal practically amount to this: that we
should turn my brother Joshua's name and reputation into a bogus
Building Society, of which the funds were to be scraped together
from all the naked bodies and the starving bellies of the world,
whilst _we_ and our thieving co-directors should collar all the
swag?
AUNTIE.
Pages:
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94