He extends his wiped hand, which MR MARCH shakes with the feeling
that he is always shaking Mr. BLY's hand.
MR MARCH. But, apropos of your daughter, Mr Bly. I suppose none of us
ever change our natures.
BLY. [Again responding to the appeal that he senses to his philosophical
vein] Ah! but 'oo can see what our natures are? Why, I've known people
that could see nothin' but theirselves and their own families, unless
they was drunk. At my daughter's trial, I see right into the lawyers,
judge and all. There she was, hub of the whole thing, and all they could
see of her was 'ow far she affected 'em personally--one tryin' to get 'er
guilty, the other tryin' to get 'er off, and the judge summin' 'er up
cold-blooded.
MR MARCH. But that's what they're paid for, Mr Bly.
BLY. Ah! But which of 'em was thinkin' "'Ere's a little bit o' warm
life on its own. 'Ere's a little dancin' creature. What's she feelin',
wot's 'er complaint?"--impersonal-like. I like to see a man do a bit of
speculatin', with his mind off of 'imself, for once.
MR MARCH. "The man that hath not speculation in his soul."
BLY. That's right, sir. When I see a mangy cat or a dog that's lost, or
a fellow-creature down on his luck, I always try to put meself in his
place. It's a weakness I've got.
MR MARCH. [Warmly] A deuced good one. Shake--
He checks himself, but MR BLY has wiped his hand and extended it.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45