VICAR. What do you mean by beautiful?
MARY. You know what I mean: What you once said God was, when you called Him beautiful.
VICAR. I have no right to judge your father.
[She perceives the evasion.]
MARY. Not even—good? . . .
VICAR. He is what I have made him. I and no other!
[She stands looking at him piteously.]
AUNTIE. There is another—I! I kept them apart: I poisoned your uncle against him: I took you away from him: It was I who kept you in ignorance of your father!
MARY. Why? . . .
AUNTIE. Because he stands in the way of my husband's happiness! Because, even, he is your father! Because I hate him! I could almost wish him dead!