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han ever. She puts the tray down on the sideboard with a clap that attracts her father's attention, and stands contemplating the debris on the table. BLY. Winders! There they are! Clean, dirty! All sorts--All round yer! Winders! FAITH. [With disgust] Food! BLY. Ah! Food and winders! That's life! FAITH. Eight times a day four times for them and four times for us. I hate food! She puts a chocolate into her mouth. BLY. 'Ave some philosophy. I might just as well hate me winders. FAITH. Well! She begins to clear. BLY. [Regarding her] Look 'ere, my girl! Don't you forget that there ain't many winders in London out o' which they look as philosophical as these here. Beggars can't be choosers. FAITH. [Sullenly] Oh! Don't go on at me! BLY. They spoiled your disposition in that place, I'm afraid. FAITH. Try it, and see what they do with yours. BLY. Well, I may come to it yet. FAITH. You'll get no windows to look out of there; a little bit of a thing with bars to it, and lucky if it's not thick glass. [Standing still and gazing past MR BLY] No sun, no trees, no faces--people don't pass in the sky, not even angels. BLY. Ah! But you shouldn't brood over it. I knew a man in Valpiraso that 'ad spent 'arf 'is life in prison-a jolly feller; I forget what 'e'd done, somethin' bloody. I want to see you like him. Aren't you happy here? FAITH. It's right enough, so long as I get out. BLY. This Mr March--he's like all these novel-writers--thinks 'e knows 'uman nature, but of course 'e don't. Still, I can talk to 'im--got an open mind, and hates the Gover'ment. That's the two great things. Mrs March, so far as I see, 'as got her head screwed on much tighter. FAITH. She has. BLY. What's the young man like? He's a long feller. FAITH. Johnny? [With a shrug and a little smile] Johnny. BLY. Well, that gives a very good idea of him. They say 'es a poet; does 'e leave 'em about? FAITH. I've seen one or two. BLY. What's their tone? FAITH. All about the condition of the world; and the moon. BLY. Ah! Depressin'. And the young lady? FAITH shrugs her shoulders. Um--'ts what I thought. She 'asn't moved much with the times. She thinks she 'as, but she 'asn't. Well, they seem a pleasant family. Leave you to yourself. 'Ow's Cook? FAITH. Not much company. BLY. More body than mind? Still, you get out, don't
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