[Bitterly.] It’s very natural. It only means that you love yourself better than anyone else. Why should one expect you to have pity for your father, or gratitude?
John.
Oh, Sylvia, where did you learn to say such cruel things? I can’t, I tell you, I can’t. If father were in his normal mind, neither he nor mother would wish me to do such a thing.
Sylvia.
But your mother does wish it. Oh, John, don’t be stubborn. For God’s sake give yourself the opportunity. Your father’s dying, John; you have no time to lose.... John, the Communion Service has only just begun. If you get on your bicycle you’ll be there in time. The other day the Vicar said if you presented yourself at the Communion table he would not hesitate to administer it.
[John looks steadily in front of him for a moment, then makes up his mind; he stands up suddenly and without a word goes out of the room.
Sylvia.
[In a whisper.] O God, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me!
[The Curtain is lowered for one minute to denote the lapse of half an hour. When it rises Sylvia is standing at the window, looking out into the garden.
[Mrs. Littlewood enters.