th his pail
and cloths, is coming in.

BLY. Afternoon, sir! Shall I be disturbing you if I do the winders
here?

MR MARCH. Not at all.

MR BLY crosses to the windows.

MARY. [Pointing to MR BLY's back] Try!

BLY. Showery, sir.

MR MARCH. Ah!

BLY. Very tryin' for winders. [Resting] My daughter givin'
satisfaction, I hope?

MR MARCH. [With difficulty] Er--in her work, I believe, coming on well.
But the question is, Mr Bly, do--er--any of us ever really give
satisfaction except to ourselves?

BLY. [Taking it as an invitation to his philosophical vein] Ah! that's
one as goes to the roots of 'uman nature. There's a lot of disposition
in all of us. And what I always say is: One man's disposition is another
man's indisposition.

MR MARCH. By George! Just hits the mark.

BLY. [Filling his sponge] Question is: How far are you to give rein to
your disposition? When I was in Durban, Natal, I knew a man who had the
biggest disposition I ever come across. 'E struck 'is wife, 'e smoked
opium, 'e was a liar, 'e gave all the rein 'e could, and yet withal one
of the pleasantest men I ever met.

MR MARCH. Perhaps in giving rein he didn't strike you.

BLY. [With a big wipe, following his thought] He said to me once:
"Joe," he said, "if I was to hold meself in, I should be a devil."
There's where you get it. Policemen, priests, prisoners. Cab'net
Ministers, any one who leads an unnatural life, see how it twists 'em.
You can't suppress a thing without it swellin' you up in another place.

MR MARCH. And the moral of that is--?

BLY. Follow your instincts. You see--if I'm not keepin' you--now that
we ain't got no faith, as we were sayin' the other day, no Ten
Commandments in black an' white--we've just got to be 'uman bein's--
raisin' Cain, and havin' feelin' hearts. What's the use of all these
lofty ideas that you can't live up to? Liberty, Fraternity, Equality,
Democracy--see what comes o' fightin' for 'em! 'Ere we are-wipin' out
the lot. We thought they was fixed stars; they was only comets--hot air.
No; trust 'uman nature, I say, and follow your instincts.

MR MARCH. We were talking of your daughter--I--I--

BLY. There's a case in point. Her instincts was starved goin' on for
three years, because, mind you, they kept her hangin' about in prison
months before they tried her. I read your article, and I thought to
meself after I'd finished: Which would I feel smallest--i