[With a smile.] My dear, surely you’re letting a lack of humour cloud a lively intelligence. Vast numbers of excellent churchmen don’t go to church, and I’m not aware that their children are corrupted by it.
Sylvia.
[Passionately.] You don’t understand. You’ll never understand. It’s a joke to you. It’s all over and done with, John. Let me go. I beseech you to let me go.
Colonel Wharton.
[Half rising from his chair.] I feel most awfully ill.
Mrs. Wharton.
[In alarm.] George!
John.
[Simultaneously.] Father!
[Mrs. Wharton, John, and the Doctor hurry towards him.