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.
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