(looking up, but with his pen raised ready to resume his work).
Well? Where is Eugene?

CANDIDA. Washing his hands in the scullery--under the tap. He will make
an excellent cook if he can only get over his dread of Maria.

MORELL (shortly). Ha! No doubt. (He begins writing again.)

CANDIDA (going nearer, and putting her hand down softly on his to stop
him, as she says). Come here, dear. Let me look at you. (He drops his
pen and yields himself at her disposal. She makes him rise and brings
him a little away from the table, looking at him critically all the
time.) Turn your face to the light. (She places him facing the window.)
My boy is not looking well. Has he been overworking?

MORELL. Nothing more than usual.

CANDIDA. He looks very pale, and grey, and wrinkled, and old. (His
melancholy deepens; and she attacks it with wilful gaiety.) Here
(pulling him towards the easy chair) you've done enough writing for
to-day. Leave Prossy to finish it and come and talk to me.

MORELL. But--

CANDIDA. Yes, I MUST be talked to sometimes. (She makes him sit down,
and seats herself on the carpet beside his knee.) Now (patting his
hand) you're beginning to look better already. Why don't you give up
all this tiresome overworking--going out every night lecturing and
talking? Of course what you say is all very true and very right; but it
does no good: they don't mind what you say to them one little bit. Of
course they agree with you; but what's the use of people agreeing with
you if they go and do just the opposite of what you tell them the
moment your back is turned? Look at our congregation at St. Dominic's!
Why do they come to hear you talking about Christianity every Sunday?
Why, just because they've been so full of business and money-making for
six days that they want to forget all about it and have a rest on the
seventh, so that they can go back fresh and make money harder than
ever! You positively help them at it instead of hindering them.

MORELL (with energetic seriousness). You know very well, Candida, that
I often blow them up soundly for that. But if there is nothing in their
church-going but rest and diversion, why don't they try something more
amusing--more self-indulgent? There must be some good in the fact that
they prefer St. Dominic's to worse places on Sundays.

CANDIDA. Oh, the worst places aren't open; and even if they were, they
daren't be seen going to them. Besides, James, dear, you preach so
splendidly