e.
Did you ever come in there?

JOHNNY. No.

FAITH. I'd go back there; only they wouldn't take me--I'm too
conspicuous now.

JOHNNY. I expect you're well out of that.

FAITH. [With a sigh] But I did like it. I felt free. We had an hour
off in the middle of the day; you could go where you liked; and then,
after hours--I love the streets at night--all lighted. Olga--that's one
of the other girls--and I used to walk about for hours. That's life!
Fancy! I never saw a street for more than two years. Didn't you miss
them in the war?

JOHNNY. I missed grass and trees more--the trees! All burnt, and
splintered. Gah!

FAITH. Yes, I like trees too; anything beautiful, you know. I think the
parks are lovely--but they might let you pick the flowers. But the
lights are best, really--they make you feel happy. And music--I love an
organ. There was one used to come and play outside the prison--before I
was tried. It sounded so far away and lovely. If I could 'ave met the
man that played that organ, I'd have kissed him. D'you think he did it
on purpose?

JOHNNY. He would have, if he'd been me.

He says it unconsciously, but FAITH is instantly conscious of the
implication.

FAITH. He'd rather have had pennies, though. It's all earning; working
and earning. I wish I were like the flowers. [She twirls the dower in
her hand] Flowers don't work, and they don't get put in prison.

JOHNNY. [Putting his arm round her] Never mind! Cheer up! You're only
a kid. You'll have a good time yet.

FAITH leans against him, as it were indifferently, clearly expecting
him to kiss her, but he doesn't.

FAITH. When I was a little girl I had a cake covered with sugar. I ate
the sugar all off and then I didn't want the cake--not much.

JOHNNY. [Suddenly, removing his arm] Gosh! If I could write a poem that
would show everybody what was in the heart of everybody else--!

FAITH. It'd be too long for the papers, wouldn't it?

JOHNNY. It'd be too strong.

FAITH. Besides, you don't know.

Her eyelids go up.

JOHNNY. [Staring at her] I could tell what's in you now.

FAITH. What?

JOHNNY. You feel like a flower that's been picked.

FAITH's smile is enigmatic.

FAITH. [Suddenly] Why do you go on about me so?

JOHNNY. Because you're weak--little and weak. [Breaking out again] Damn
it! We went into the war to save the little and weak; at least we said
so; and look