eeming not to
notice things, Mary.

MARY. Faith! She's got on very fast this fortnight.

MR MARCH. The glad eye, Mary. I got it that first morning.

MARY. You, Dad?

MR MARCH. No, no! Johnny got it, and I got him getting it.

MARY. What are you going to do about it?

MR MARCH. What does one do with a glad eye that belongs to some one
else?

MARY. [Laughing] No. But, seriously, Dad, Johnny's not like you and
me. Why not speak to Mr Bly?

MR MARCH. Mr Bly's eyes are not glad.

MARY. Dad! Do be serious! Johnny's capable of anything except a sense
of humour.

MR MARCH. The girl's past makes it impossible to say anything to her.

MARY. Well, I warn you. Johnny's very queer just now; he's in the "lose
the world to save your soul" mood. It really is too bad of that girl.
After all, we did what most people wouldn't.

MR MARCH. Come! Get your hat on, Mary, or we shan't make the Tube
before the next shower.

MARY. [Going to the door] Something must be done.

MR MARCH. As you say, something--Ah! Mr Bly!

MR BLY, in precisely the same case as a fortnight ago, with his pail
and cloths, is coming in.

BLY. Afternoon, sir! Shall I be disturbing you if I do the winders
here?

MR MARCH. Not at all.

MR BLY crosses to the windows.

MARY. [Pointing to MR BLY's back] Try!

BLY. Showery, sir.

MR MARCH. Ah!

BLY. Very tryin' for winders. [Resting] My daughter givin'
satisfaction, I hope?

MR MARCH. [With difficulty] Er--in her work, I believe, coming on well.
But the question is, Mr Bly, do--er--any of us ever really give
satisfaction except to ourselves?

BLY. [Taking it as an invitation to his philosophical vein] Ah! that's
one as goes to the roots of 'uman nature. There's a lot of disposition
in all of us. And what I always say is: One man's disposition is another
man's indisposition.

MR MARCH. By George! Just hits the mark.

BLY. [Filling his sponge] Question is: How far are you to give rein to
your disposition? When I was in Durban, Natal, I knew a man who had the
biggest disposition I ever come across. 'E struck 'is wife, 'e smoked
opium, 'e was a liar, 'e gave all the rein 'e could, and yet withal one
of the pleasantest men I ever met.

MR MARCH. Perhaps in giving rein he didn't strike you.

BLY. [With a big wipe, following his thought] He said to me once:
"Joe," he said, "if I was to hold meself in, I should be a devil."
There