FAITH, still with that little half-mocking, half-contented smile,
resumes the clearing of the table. She is interrupted by the
entrance through the French windows of MR MARCH and MARY, struggling
with one small wet umbrella.
MARY. [Feeling his sleeve] Go and change, Dad.
MR MARCH. Women's shoes! We could have made the Tube but for your
shoes.
MARY. It was your cold feet, not mine, dear. [Looking at FAITH and
nudging him] Now!
She goes towards the door, turns to look at FAITH still clearing the
table, and goes out.
MR MARCH. [In front of the hearth] Nasty spring weather, Faith.
FAITH. [Still in the mood of the kiss] Yes, Sir.
MR MARCH. [Sotto voce] "In the spring a young man's fancy." I--I wanted
to say something to you in a friendly way.
FAITH regards him as he struggles on. Because I feel very friendly
towards you.
FAITH. Yes.
MR MARCH. So you won't take what I say in bad part?
FAITH. No.
MR MARCH. After what you've been through, any man with a sense of
chivalry--
FAITH gives a little shrug.
Yes, I know--but we don't all support the Government.
FAITH. I don't know anything about the Government.
MR MARCH. [Side-tracked on to his hobby] Ah I forgot. You saw no
newspapers. But you ought to pick up the threads now. What paper does
Cook take?
FAITH. "COSY."
MR MARCH. "Cosy"? I don't seem-- What are its politics?
FAITH.
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