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.
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