you look small. You can have Peace with Honour, whatever you decide.
[Listening] There they are! Now, Mother, don't be logical! It's so
feminine.

As the door opens, MRS MARCH nervously fortifies herself with the
third little glass of brandy. She remains seated. MARY is on her
right.

MR MARCH leads into the room and stands next his daughter, then
FAITH in hat and coat to the left of the table, and JOHNNY, pale but
determined, last. Assembled thus, in a half fan, of which MRS MARCH
is the apex, so to speak, they are all extremely embarrassed, and no
wonder.

Suddenly MARY gives a little gurgle.

JOHNNY. You'd think it funnier if you'd just come out of prison and were
going to be chucked out of your job, on to the world again.

FAITH. I didn't want to come down here. If I'm to go I want to go at
once. And if I'm not, it's my evening out, please.

She moves towards the door. JOHNNY takes her by the shoulders.

JOHNNY. Stand still, and leave it to me. [FAITH looks up at him,
hypnotized by his determination] Now, mother, I've come down at your
request to discuss this; are you ready to keep her? Otherwise up we go
again.

MR MARCH. That's not the way to go to work, Johnny. You mustn't ask
people to eat their words raw--like that.

JOHNNY. Well, I've had no dinner, but I'm not going to eat my words, I
tell you plainly.

MRS MARCH. Very well then; go up again.

MARY. [Muttering] Mother--logic.

MR MARCH. Great Scott! You two haven't the faintest idea of how to
conduct a parley. We have--to--er--explore every path to--find a way to
peace.

MRS MARCH. [To FAITH] Have you thought of anything to do, if you leave
here?

FAITH. Yes.

JOHNNY. What?

FAITH. I shan't say.

JOHNNY. Of course, she'll just chuck herself away.

FAITH. No, I won't. I'll go to a place I know of, where they don't want
references.

JOHNNY. Exactly!

MRS MARCH. [To FAITH] I want to ask you a question. Since you came
out, is this the first young man who's kissed you?

FAITH has hardly had time to start and manifest what may or may not
be indignation when MR MARCH dashes his hands through his hair.

MR MARCH. Joan, really!

JOHNNY. [Grimly] Don't condescend to answer!

MRS MARCH. I thought we'd met to get at the truth.

MARY. But do they ever?

FAITH. I will go out!

JOHNNY. No! [And, as his back is against the door, she c