heelers debates his feminist cousin pauline

Ireland's greatest living poet ensconced with a scone in the Tearman Cafe.
My organic food store managing feminist cousin Pauline passes through the cafe on a mission involving Kumquats.
"You see James," she calls back, "I just don't understand why people of faith have to care what anyone else does."
My gentle preraphaelite features wizened a bit.
I was toying with saying: Maybe we should just deprive people of faith their right to say anything at all about anything, like those lovable progressive goons of Stalinism, Maoism, Hitlerism and Jihad have already done in the liberal paradises on earth that they have so successfully created.
But I didn't say it.
Instead I said: "Pauline, do you really want to discuss this with me?"
She smiled brightly.
"No," she said and disappeared.