Dash it! You know what I mean. I regret it with my--my
conscience. It shan't occur again.
MRS MARCH. Till next time.
JOHNNY. Mother, you make me despair. You're so matter-of-fact, you
never give one credit for a pure ideal.
MRS MARCH. I know where ideals lead.
JOHNNY. Where?
MRS MARCH. Into the soup. And the purer they are, the hotter the soup.
JOHNNY. And you married father!
MRS MARCH. I did.
JOHNNY. Well, that girl is not to be chucked out; won't have her on my
chest.
MRS MARCH. That's why she's going, Johnny.
JOHNNY. She is not. Look at me!
MRS MARCH looks at him from across the dining-table, for he has
marched up to it, till they are staring at each other across the now
cleared rosewood.
MRS MARCH. How are you going to stop her?
JOHNNY. Oh, I'll stop her right enough. If I stuck it out in Hell, I
can stick it out in Highgate.
MRS MARCH. Johnny, listen. I've watched this girl; and I don't watch
what I want to see--like your father--I watch what is. She's not a hard
case--yet; but she will be.
JOHNNY. And why? Because all you matter-of-fact people make up your
minds to it. What earthly chance has she had?
MRS MARCH.
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