AITH, who stands shrinking a little] I came on this--er
--friend of yours outside; he's been waiting for you some time, he says.

MRS MARCH. [To FAITH] You can go now.

JOHNNY. [Suddenly, to the YOUNG MAN] Who are you?

YOUNG M. Ask another! [To FAITH] Are you ready?

JOHNNY. [Seeing red] No, she's not; and you'll just clear out.

MR MARCH. Johnny!

YOUNG M. What have you got to do with her?

JOHNNY. Quit.

YOUNG M. I'll quit with her, and not before. She's my girl.

JOHNNY. Are you his girl?

FAITH. Yes.

MRS MARCH sits down again, and reaching out her left hand, mechanically
draws to her the glass of brandy which her husband had poured out for
himself and left undrunk.

JOHNNY. Then why did you--[He is going to say: "Kiss me," but checks
himself]--let me think you hadn't any friends? Who is this fellow?

YOUNG M. A little more civility, please.

JOHNNY. You look a blackguard, and I believe you are.

MR MARCH. [With perfunctory authority] I really can't have this sort of
thing in my house. Johnny, go upstairs; and you two, please go away.

YOUNG M. [To JOHNNY] We know the sort of chap you are--takin' advantage
of workin' girls.

JOHNNY. That's a foul lie. Come into the garden and I'll prove it on
your carcase.

YOUNG M. All right!

FAITH. No; he'll hurt you. He's been in the war.

JOHNNY. [To the YOUNG MAN] You haven't, I'll bet.

YOUNG M. I didn't come here to be slanged.

JOHNNY. This poor girl is going to have a fair deal, and you're not
going to give it her. I can see that with half an eye.

YOUNG M. You'll see it with no eyes when I've done with you.

JOHNNY. Come on, then.

He goes up to the windows.

MR MARCH. For God's sake, Johnny, stop this vulgar brawl!

FAITH. [Suddenly] I'm not a "poor girl" and I won't be called one.
I don't want any soft words. Why can't you let me be? [Pointing to
JOHNNY] He talks wild. [JOHNNY clutches the edge of the writing-table]
Thinks he can "rescue" me. I don't want to be rescued. I--[All the
feeling of years rises to the surface now that the barrier has broken]
--I want to be let alone. I've paid for everything I've done--a pound
for every shilling's worth.

And all because of one minute when I was half crazy. [Flashing round at
MARY] Wait till you've had a baby you oughtn't to have had, and not a
penny in your pocket! It's money--money--all money!

YOUNG M. Sst! That'll do!

FAITH. I'll