MRS MARCH. Tolstoi was a Russian--always proving that what isn't, is.
JOHNNY. Russians are charitable, anyway, and see into other people's
souls.
MRS MARCH. That's why they're hopeless.
JOHNNY. Well--for cynicism--
MRS MARCH. It's at least as important, Johnny, to see into ourselves as
into other people. I've been trying to make your father understand that
ever since we married. He'd be such a good writer if he did--he wouldn't
write at all.
JOHNNY. Father has imagination.
MRS MARCH. And no business to meddle with practical affairs. You and he
always ride in front of the hounds. Do you remember when the war broke
out, how angry you were with me because I said we were fighting from a
sense of self-preservation? Well, weren't we?
JOHNNY. That's what I'm doing now, anyway.
MRS MARCH. Saving this girl, to save yourself?
JOHNNY. I must have something decent to do sometimes. There isn't an
ideal left.
MRS MARCH. If you knew how tired I am of the word, Johnny!
JOHNNY. There are thousands who feel like me--that the bottom's out of
everything. It sickens me that anything in the least generous should get
sat on by all you people who haven't risked your lives.
MRS MARCH. [With a smile] I risked mine when you were born, Johnny.
You were always very difficult.
JOHNNY. That girl's been telling me--I can see the whole thing.
MRS MARCH. The fact that she suffered doesn't alter her nature; or the
danger to you and us.
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