]
MRS MARCH. Geof, can you eat preserved peaches?
MR MARCH. Hell! What a policy! Um?
MRS MARCH. Can you eat preserved peaches?
MR MARCH. Yes. [To his paper] Making the country stink in the eyes of
the world!
MARY. Nostrils, Dad, nostrils.
MR MARCH wriggles, half hearing.
JOHNNY. [Muttering] Shallow idiots! Thinking we can do without
chivalry!
MRS MARCH. I'm doing my best to get a parlourmaid, to-day, Mary, but
these breakfast things won't clear themselves.
MARY. I'll clear them, Mother.
MRS MARCH. Good! [She gets up. At the door] Knitting silk.
She goes out.
JOHNNY. Mother hasn't an ounce of idealism. You might make her see
stars, but never in the singular.
MR MARCH. [To his paper] If God doesn't open the earth soon--
MARY. Is there anything special, Dad?
MR MARCH. This sulphurous government. [He drops the paper] Give me a
match, Mary.
As soon as the paper is out of his hands he becomes a different--an
affable man.
MARY. [Giving him a match] D'you mind writing in here this morning,
Dad? Your study hasn't been done. There's nobody but Cook.
MR MARCH. [Lighting his pipe] Anywhere.
He slews the armchair towards the fire.
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