"If you are so certain of everything," he begins, slowly and with clear articulation, in the way that assures only a build in momentum, "then you tell me where I should draw the line."

Now his gaze turns on Charles, and even in this shadowy ambience it should not be difficult to imagine, at least, how it looks. "You tell me, Charles, how to decide what to accept and what to ignore." And now the promised raise in volume. His hands accompany with stiff, agitated gestures. "How can I listen to someone telling me, I'm your daughter, or my son or my grandchild, see the likeness in their faces, and look into their eyes and say to them, I'm sorry, but your existence supports a ridiculous concept and so I choose not to believe it? How am I supposed to do that?"