God!

He takes back the sheet of paper, clutches his brow, and crosses to
the door. As he passes FAITH, she looks up at him with eyes full of
expression. JOHNNY catches the look, jibs ever so little, and goes
out.

COOK'S VOICE. [Through the door, which is still ajar] Faith!

FAITH puts the decanters on the table, and goes quickly out.

MR MARCH. [Who has seen this little by-play--to himself--in a voice of
dismay] Oh! oh! I wonder!

CURTAIN.

ACT II

A fortnight later in the MARCH'S dining-room; a day of violent
April showers. Lunch is over and the table littered with, remains--
twelve baskets full.

MR MARCH and MARY have lingered. MR MARCH is standing by the hearth
where a fire is burning, filling a fountain pen. MARY sits at the
table opposite, pecking at a walnut.

MR MARCH. [Examining his fingers] What it is to have an inky present!
Suffer with me, Mary!

MARY. "Weep ye no more, sad Fountains!
Why need ye flow so fast?"

MR MARCH. [Pocketing his pen] Coming with me to the British Museum?
I want to have a look at the Assyrian reliefs.

MARY. Dad, have you noticed Johnny?

MR MARCH. I have.

MARY. Then only Mother hasn't.

MR MARCH. I've always found your mother extremely good at seeming not to
notice things, Mary.

MARY. Faith! She's got on very fast this fortnight.

MR MARCH. The glad eye, Mary. I got it that first morning.

MARY. You, Dad?

MR MARCH. No, no! Johnny got it, and I got him getting it.

MARY. What are you going to do about it?

MR MARCH. What does one do with a glad eye that belongs to some one
else?

MARY. [Laughing] No. But, seriously, Dad, Johnny's not like you and
me. Why not speak to Mr Bly?

MR MARCH. Mr Bly's eyes are not glad.

MARY. Dad! Do be serious! Johnny's capable of anything except a sense
of humour.

MR MARCH. The girl's past makes it impossible to say anything to her.

MARY. Well, I warn you. Johnny's very queer just now; he's in the "lose
the world to save your soul" mood. It really is too bad of that girl.
After all, we did what most people wouldn't.

MR MARCH. Come! Get your hat on, Mary, or we shan't make the Tube
before the next shower.

MARY. [Going to the door] Something must be done.

MR MARCH. As you say, something--Ah! Mr Bly!

MR BLY, in precisely the same case as a fortnight ago, wi