s herself by an
effort. A painful silence.

P. C. MAN. Well, sir--that's all. Good evening! He turns to the door,
touching his forehead to MR MARCH, and goes.

As the door closes, FAITH sinks into a chair, and burying her face
in her hands, sobs silently. MRS MARCH sits motionless with a faint
smile. JOHNNY stands at the window biting his nails. MARY crosses
to FAITH.

MARY. [Softly] Don't. You weren't really fond of him?

FAITH bends her head.

MARY. But how could you? He--

FAITH. I--I couldn't see inside him.

MARY. Yes; but he looked--couldn't you see he looked--?

FAITH. [Suddenly flinging up her head] If you'd been two years without
a word, you'd believe anyone that said he liked you.

MARY. Perhaps I should.

FAITH. But I don't want him--he's a liar. I don't like liars.

MARY. I'm awfully sorry.

FAITH. [Looking at her] Yes--you keep off feeling--then you'll be happy!
[Rising] Good-bye!

MARY. Where are you going?

FAITH. To my father.

MARY. With him in that state?

FAITH. He won't hurt me.

MARY. You'd better stay. Mother, she can stay, can't she?

MRS MARCH nods.

FAITH. No!

MARY. Why not? We're all sorry. Do! You'd better.

FAITH. Father'll come over for my things tomorrow.

MARY. What are you going to do?

FAITH. [Proudly] I'll get on.

JOHNNY. [From the window] Stop!

All turn and look at him. He comes down. Will you come to me?

FAITH stares at him. MRS MARCH continues to smile faintly.

MARY. [With a horrified gesture] Johnny!

JOHNNY. Will you? I'll play cricket if you do.

MR MARCH. [Under his breath] Good God!

He stares in suspense at FAITH, whose face is a curious blend of
fascination and live feeling.

JOHNNY. Well?

FAITH. [Softly] Don't be silly! I've got no call on you. You don't
care for me, and I don't for you. No! You go and put your head in ice.
[She turns to the door] Good-bye, Mr March! I'm sorry I've been so much
trouble.

MR MARCH. Not at all, not at all!

FAITH. Oh! Yes, I have. There's nothing to be done with a girl like
me. She goes out.

JOHNNY. [Taking up the decanter to pour himself out a glass of brandy]
Empty!

COOK. [Who has entered with a tray] Yes, my dearie, I'm sure you are.

JOHNNY. [Staring at his father] A vision, Dad! Windows of Clubs--men
sitting there; and that girl going by with rouge on her cheeks--

C