to sleep there.

MRS MARCH. Did he take the walnuts?

MARY. No; he passed them in to her. He says he's on hunger strike. But
he's eaten all the chocolate and smoked himself sick. He's having the
time of his life, mother.

MR MARCH. There you are!

MRS MARCH. Wait till this time to-morrow.

MARY. Cook's been up again. He wouldn't let her pass. She'll have to
sleep in the spare room.

MR MARCH. I say!

MARY. And he's got the books out of her room.

MRS MARCH. D'you know what they are? "The Scarlet Pimpernel,"
"The Wide Wide World," and the Bible.

MARY. Johnny likes romance.

She crosses to the fire.

MR MARCH. [In a low voice] Are you going to leave him up there with the
girl and that inflammatory literature, all night? Where's your common
sense, Joan?

MRS MARCH starts up, presses her hand over her brow, and sits down
again. She is stumped.

[With consideration for her defeat] Have another tot! [He pours it out]
Let Mary go up with a flag of truce, and ask them both to come down for a
thorough discussion of the whole thing, on condition that they can go up
again if we don't come to terms.

MRS MARCH. Very well! I'm quite willing to meet him. I hate
quarrelling with Johnny.

MR MARCH. Good! I'll go myself. [He goes out.]

MARY. Mother, this isn't a coal strike; don't discuss it for three hours
and then at the end ask Johnny and the girl to do precisely what you're
asking them to do now.

MRS MARCH. Why should I?

MARY. Because it's so usual. Do fix on half-way at once.

MRS MARCH. There is no half-way.

MARY. Well, for goodness sake think of a plan which will make you both
look victorious. That's always done in the end. Why not let her stay,
and make Johnny promise only to see her in the presence of a third party?

MRS MARCH. Because she'd see him every day while he was looking for the
third party. She'd help him look for it.

MARY. [With a gurgle] Mother, I'd no idea you were so--French.

MRS MARCH. It seems to me you none of you have any idea what I am.

MARY. Well, do remember that there'll be no publicity to make either of
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.