He's going to sleep there.
MRS MARCH. Did he take the walnuts?
MARY. No; he passed them in to her. He says he's on hunger strike. But
he's eaten all the chocolate and smoked himself sick. He's having the
time of his life, mother.
MR MARCH. There you are!
MRS MARCH. Wait till this time to-morrow.
MARY. Cook's been up again. He wouldn't let her pass. She'll have to
sleep in the spare room.
MR MARCH. I say!
MARY. And he's got the books out of her room.
MRS MARCH. D'you know what they are? "The Scarlet Pimpernel,"
"The Wide Wide World," and the Bible.
MARY. Johnny likes romance.
She crosses to the fire.
MR MARCH. [In a low voice] Are you going to leave him up there with the
girl and that inflammatory literature, all night? Where's your common
sense, Joan?
MRS MARCH starts up, presses her hand over her brow, and sits down
again. She is stumped.
[With consideration for her defeat] Have another tot! [He pours it out]
Let Mary go up with a flag of truce, and ask them both to come down for a
thorough discussion of the whole thing, on condition that they can go up
again if we don't come to terms.
MRS MARCH. Very well! I'm quite willing to meet him.
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