Michael and His Lost Angel: A Play in Five Acts

by Henry Arthur Jones

MICH. Kept me from my work. I wish the woman would take herself back to London.

MARK. Why?

MICH. Her frivolity and insincerity repel me. No—not insincerity. I recall that. For she said one or two things that seemed to show a vein of true, deep feeling. But on the whole I dislike her—I think I dislike her very much.

MARK. Why?

MICH. She comes regularly to church——

MARK. Surely there’s no very great harm in that——

MICH. No; but I don’t know whether she’s mocking, or criticising, or worshipping; or whether she’s merely bored, and thinking that my surplice is not enough starched, or starched too much.

MARK. She’s very rich, and would be an immense help to our movement. I should try and cultivate her.

MICH. I can’t cultivate people. What do you think of her?

MARK. A very clever society woman, all the more clever that she was not born in society.