n good-lookin'--it'd never 'eve 'appened."

During this speech MARY has come in with a tray, to clear the
breakfast, and stands unnoticed at the dining-table, arrested by
the curious words of MR BLY.

MR MARCH. Your wife might not have thought that you were wholly the
cause, Mr Bly.

BLY. Ah! My wife. She's passed on. But Faith--that's my girl's
name--she never was like 'er mother; there's no 'eredity in 'er on that
side.

MR MARCH. What sort of girl is she?

BLY. One for colour--likes a bit o' music--likes a dance, and a flower.

MARY. [Interrupting softly] Dad, I was going to clear, but I'll come
back later.

MR MARCH. Come here and listen to this! Here's a story to get your
blood up! How old was the baby, Mr Bly?

BLY. Two days--'ardly worth mentionin'. They say she 'ad the
'ighstrikes after--an' when she comes to she says: "I've saved my baby's
life." An' that's true enough when you come to think what that sort o'
baby goes through as a rule; dragged up by somebody else's hand, or took
away by the Law. What can a workin' girl do with a baby born under the
rose, as they call it? Wonderful the difference money makes when it
comes to bein' outside the Law.

MR MARCH. Right you are, Mr Bly. God's on the side of the big
battalions.

BLY. Ah! Religion! [His eyes roll philosophically] Did you ever read
'Aigel?

MR MARCH. Hegel, or Haekel?

BLY. Yes; with an aitch. There's a balance abart 'im that I like.
There's no doubt the Christian religion went too far. Turn the other
cheek! What oh! An' this Anti-Christ, Neesha, what came in with the
war--he went too far in the other direction. Neither of 'em practical
men. You've got to strike a balance, and foller it.

MR MARCH. Balance! Not much balance about us. We just run about and
jump Jim Crow.

BLY. [With a perfunctory wipe] That's right; we 'aven't got a faith
these days. But what's the use of tellin' the Englishman to act like an
angel. He ain't either an angel or a blond beast. He's between the two,
an 'ermumphradite. Take my daughter----If I was a blond beast, I'd turn
'er out to starve; if I was an angel, I'd starve meself to learn her the
piano. I don't do either. Why? Becos my instincts tells me not.

MR MARCH. Yes, but my doubt is whether our instincts at this moment of
the world's history are leading us up or down.

BLY. What is up and what is down? Can you answer me that? Is it up o