It hasn't helped your daughter.
BLY. I was speakin' philosophic! Well, I'll go 'ome now, and prepare
meself for the worst.
MRS MARCH. Has Cook given you your money?
BLY. She 'as.
He goes out gloomily and is nearly overthrown in the doorway by the
violent entry of JOHNNY.
JOHNNY. What's this, Mother? I won't have it--it's pre-war.
MRS MARCH. [Indicating MR BLY] Johnny!
JOHNNY waves BLY out of the room and doses the door.
JOHNNY. I won't have her go. She's a pathetic little creature.
MRS MARCH. [Unruffled] She's a minx.
JOHNNY. Mother!
MRS MARCH. Now, Johnny, be sensible. She's a very pretty girl, and this
is my house.
JOHNNY. Of course you think the worst. Trust anyone who wasn't in the
war for that!
MRS MARCH. I don't think either the better or the worse. Kisses are
kisses!
JOHNNY. Mother, you're like the papers--you put in all the vice and
leave out all the virtue, and call that human nature. The kiss was an
accident that I bitterly regret.
MRS MARCH. Johnny, how can you?
JOHNNY. Dash it! You know what I mean. I regret it with my--my
conscience. It shan't occur again.
MRS MARCH. Till next time.
JOHNNY. Mother, you make me despair. You're so matter-of-fact, you
never give one credit for a pure ideal.
MRS MARCH. I know where ideals lead.
JOHNNY. Where?
MRS MARCH. Into the soup. And the purer they are, the hotter the soup.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61