MICH. Very well—ask her. But I would rather you didn’t speak lightly of——
SIR LYOLF. Of her soul?
MICH. Of anyone’s soul?
SIR LYOLF. I won’t—even of a woman’s. But I wish they wouldn’t swing about. Women’s souls oughtn’t to swing anywhere, except towards heaven. Ah, Michael, you must let me have my fling. Remember when I was a boy, religion was a very simple, easy-going affair. Parson—clerk—old three-decker pulpit—village choir. What a village choir! I suppose it was all wrong—but they were very comfortable old days.
MICH. Religion is not simple—or easy-going.
SIR LYOLF. No. Subtlety again. I want a plain “yes” or “no,” a plain black or white, a plain right or wrong, and none of our teachers or preachers is prepared to give it to me. Oh dear! This world has grown too subtle for me! I’ll step over to Island House and ask Mrs. Lesden to dinner to-morrow.
MARK. I’ll come with you and pay my respects to her. You don’t mind, Michael?
MICH. Not at all. I want to set Andrew to work at once to keep him from dwelling on his trouble.
SIR LYOLF. I didn’t come to the church this morning. I felt it would be too painful. (Glancing up at portrait.) What would she have said about it?
MICH. I think she approves what I have done.