She's a baggage. There are such things, you know, Johnny.
JOHNNY. She's a little creature who went down in the scrum and has been
kicked about ever since.
MRS MARCH. I'll give her money, if you'll keep her at arm's length.
JOHNNY. I call that revolting. What she wants is the human touch.
MRS MARCH. I've not a doubt of it.
JOHNNY rises in disgust.
Johnny, what is the use of wrapping the thing up in catchwords? Human
touch! A young man like you never saved a girl like her. It's as
fantastic as--as Tolstoi's "Resurrection."
JOHNNY. Tolstoi was the most truthful writer that ever lived.
MRS MARCH. Tolstoi was a Russian--always proving that what isn't, is.
JOHNNY. Russians are charitable, anyway, and see into other people's
souls.
MRS MARCH. That's why they're hopeless.
JOHNNY. Well--for cynicism--
MRS MARCH. It's at least as important, Johnny, to see into ourselves as
into other people. I've been trying to make your father understand that
ever since we married. He'd be such a good writer if he did--he wouldn't
write at all.
JOHNNY. Father has imagination.
MRS MARCH. And no business to meddle with practical affairs. You and he
always ride in front of the hounds.
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