Sylvia.
I don’t quite see why you should strain at a gnat.
John.
I don’t. It’s the camel I can’t swallow. I knew it would distress you if I refused to come to church. I didn’t want to seem a prig. But the other seems to me different. When I’m asked to take an active part in a ceremony that means nothing to me it’s quite another matter. I’d rather not tell a deliberate lie. And surely from your point of view it would be blasphemous.
Mrs. Wharton.
[Occupied with her own thoughts.] How dreadful!
John.
[Going up to her and putting his arm round her.] Don’t be unhappy, mother. I can’t help feeling as I do. After all, these are matters that only concern oneself.
Sylvia.
[Reflecting.] Are they?