ke what I say in bad part?

FAITH. No.

MR MARCH. After what you've been through, any man with a sense of
chivalry--

FAITH gives a little shrug.

Yes, I know--but we don't all support the Government.

FAITH. I don't know anything about the Government.

MR MARCH. [Side-tracked on to his hobby] Ah I forgot. You saw no
newspapers. But you ought to pick up the threads now. What paper does
Cook take?

FAITH. "COSY."

MR MARCH. "Cosy"? I don't seem-- What are its politics?

FAITH. It hasn't any--only funny bits, and fashions. It's full of
corsets.

MR MARCH. What does Cook want with corsets?

FAITH. She likes to think she looks like that.

MR MARCH. By George! Cook an idealist! Let's see!--er--I was speaking
of chivalry. My son, you know--er--my son has got it.

FAITH. Badly?

MR MARCH. [Suddenly alive to the fact that she is playing with him] I
started by being sorry for you.

FAITH. Aren't you, any more?

MR MARCH. Look here, my child!

FAITH looks up at him. [Protectingly] We want to do our best for you.
Now, don't spoil it by-- Well, you know!

FAITH. [Suddenly] Suppose you'd been stuffed away in a hole for years!

MR MARCH. [Side-tracked again] Just what your father said. The more I
see of Mr Bly, the more wise I think him.

FAITH. About other people.

MR MARCH. What sort of bringing up did he give you?

FAITH smiles wryly and shrugs her shoulders.

MR MARCH. H'm! Here comes the sun again!

FAITH. [Taking up the flower which is lying on the table] May I have
this flower?

MR MARCH. Of Course. You can always take what flowers you like--that
is--if--er--

FAITH. If Mrs March isn't about?

MR MARCH. I meant, if it doesn't spoil the look of the table. We must
all be artists in our professions, mustn't we?

FAITH. My profession was cutting hair. I would like to cut yours.

MR MARCH'S hands instinctively go up to it.

MR MARCH. You mightn't think it, but I'm talking to you seriously.

FAITH. I was, too.

MR MARCH. [Out of his depth] Well! I got wet; I must go and change.

FAITH follows him with her eyes as he goes out, and resumes the
clearing of the table. She has paused and is again smelling at the
flower when she hears the door, and quickly resumes her work. It is
MRS MARCH, who comes in and goes to the writing table, Left Back,
without looking at FAITH. She sits there writing a cheque, wh