John Galsworthy

“ MRS MARCH. Exactly.
MR MARCH. If we never get another chance because we repent—
COOK. I always think of Master Johnny, ma'am, and my jam; he used to repent so beautiful, dear little feller—such a conscience! I never could bear to lock it away.
MRS MARCH. Cook, you're wandering. I'm surprised at your encouraging the idea; I really am.
Cook plaits her hands.
MR MARCH. Cook's been in the family longer than I have—haven't you, Cook? [COOK beams] She knows much more about a girl like that than we do.
COOK. We had a girl like her, I remember, in your dear mother's time, Mr Geoffrey. ”

“ JOHNNY. Well—say we do; otherwise you'll admit there isn't such a thing as civilisation at all. But why do we keep them? For instance, why don't we make Mary and Mother work for us like Kafir women? We could lick them into it. Why did we give women the vote? Why free slaves; why anything decent for the little and weak?
MR MARCH. Well, you might say it was convenient for people living in communities.
JOHNNY. I don't think it's convenient at all. I should like to make Mary sweat. Why not jungle law, if there's nothing in chivalry.
MR MARCH. Chivalry is altruism, Johnny. ”

“ 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? ”

“ JOHNNY. Fellows like you—
MR MARCH. Johnny!
P. C. MAN. Your son, sir?
YOUNG M. Yes; and wants to be where I am. But my girl knows better; don't you?
He gives FAITH a look which has a certain magnetism.
P. C. MAN. If we could have the Court cleared of ladies, sir, we might speak a little plainer.
MR MARCH. Joan!
But MRS MARCH does not vary her smiling immobility; FAITH draws a little nearer to the YOUNG MAN. MARY turns to the fire.
P. C. MAN. [With half a smile] I keep on forgettin' that women are men nowadays. Well! ”

“ MARY. Is there anything special, Dad?
MR MARCH. This sulphurous government. [He drops the paper] Give me a match, Mary.
As soon as the paper is out of his hands he becomes a different—an affable man.
MARY. [Giving him a match] D'you mind writing in here this morning, Dad? Your study hasn't been done. There's nobody but Cook.
MR MARCH. [Lighting his pipe] Anywhere.
He slews the armchair towards the fire.
MARY. I'll get your things, then.
She goes out.
JOHNNY. [Still on the fender] What do you say, Dad? Is civilisation built on chivalry or on self-interest? ”

“ MRS MARCH. [Passing her hand over her forehead] It's hot in here!
MR MARCH. Mary!
MARY throws open the French windows.
MRS MARCH. [Delightfully] The room's full of GAS. Open the windows! Open! And let's walk—out—into the air!
She turns and walks delicately out through the opened windows; JOHNNY and MARY follow her. The moonlight and the air flood in.
COOK. [Coming to the table and taking up the empty decanter] My Holy Ma!
MR MARCH. Is this the Millennium, Cook?
COOK. Oh! Master Geoffrey—there isn't a millehennium. There's too much human nature. We must look things in the face. ”

“ He is a commonplace looking young man, with a decided jaw, tall, neat, soulful, who has been in the war and writes poetry. MARY is less ordinary; you cannot tell exactly what is the matter with her. She too is tall, a little absent, fair, and well-looking. She has a small china dog in her hand, taken from the mantelpiece, and faces the audience. As the curtain rises she is saying in her soft and pleasant voice: "Well, what is the matter with us all, Johnny?" ”

“ He pours brandy into a liqueur glass from the decanter which stands between them. MRS MARCH puts the brandy to her lips and makes a little face, then swallows it down manfully. MARY gets up with the walnuts and goes. Silence. Gloom.
MRS MARCH. Horrid stuff!
MR MARCH. Haven't you begun to see that your policy's hopeless, Joan? Come! Tell the girl she can stay. If we make Johnny feel victorious—we can deal with him. It's just personal pride—the curse of this world. Both you and Johnny are as stubborn as mules.
MRS MARCH. Human nature is stubborn, Geof. ”

“ MRS MARCH. It was made up long ago.
JOHNNY. [Gloomily] The more I see of things the more disgusting they seem. I don't see what we're living for. All right. Chuck the girl out, and let's go rooting along with our noses in the dirt.
MR MARCH. Steady, Johnny!
JOHNNY. Well, Dad, there was one thing anyway we learned out there— When a chap was in a hole—to pull him out, even at a risk.
MRS MARCH. There are people who—the moment you pull them out—jump in again.
MARY. We can't tell till we've tried, Mother.
COOK. It's wonderful the difference good food'll make, ma'am. ”

“ COOK. Yes, ma'am.
MRS MARCH. That girl, Faith Bly, wants to come here as parlour-maid. Absurd!
MARCH. You know her story, Cook? I want to give the poor girl a chance. Mrs March thinks it's taking chances. What do you say?
COCK. Of course, it is a risk, sir; but there! you've got to take 'em to get maids nowadays. If it isn't in the past, it's in the future. I daresay I could learn 'er.
MRS MARCH. It's not her work, Cook, it's her instincts. A girl who smothered a baby that she oughtn't to have had—
MR MARCH. [Remonstrant] If she hadn't had it how could she have smothered it? ”

“ One can't always resist a kindly impulse, Joan. What does Mr Bly say to it?
MRS MARCH. Mr Bly? "Follow your instincts" and then complains of his daughter for following them.
MR MARCH. The man's a philosopher.
MRS MARCH. Before we know where we are, we shall be having Johnny married to that girl.
MR MARCH. Nonsense!
MRS MARCH. Oh, Geof! Whenever you're faced with reality, you say "Nonsense!" You know Johnny's got chivalry on the brain.
MARY comes in.
MARY. He's at the top of the servants' staircase; outside her room. He's sitting in an armchair, with its back to her door. ”

“ JOHNNY catches the look, jibs ever so little, and goes out.
COOK'S VOICE. [Through the door, which is still ajar] Faith!
FAITH puts the decanters on the table, and goes quickly out.
MR MARCH. [Who has seen this little by-play—to himself—in a voice of dismay] Oh! oh! I wonder!
CURTAIN.
ACT II
A fortnight later in the MARCH'S dining-room; a day of violent April showers. Lunch is over and the table littered with, remains— twelve baskets full. MR MARCH and MARY have lingered. MR MARCH is standing by the hearth where a fire is burning, filling a fountain pen. ”

“ You don't care for me, and I don't for you. No! You go and put your head in ice. [She turns to the door] Good-bye, Mr March! I'm sorry I've been so much trouble.
MR MARCH. Not at all, not at all!
FAITH. Oh! Yes, I have. There's nothing to be done with a girl like me. She goes out.
JOHNNY. [Taking up the decanter to pour himself out a glass of brandy] Empty!
COOK. [Who has entered with a tray] Yes, my dearie, I'm sure you are.
JOHNNY. [Staring at his father] A vision, Dad! Windows of Clubs—men sitting there; and that girl going by with rouge on her cheeks—
COOK. Oh! Master Johnny! ”

“ MRS MARCH. A what?
BLY. Nothin'll ever make her regular. Mr March'll understand how I feel. Poor girl! In the mud again. Well, we must keep smilin'. [His face is as long as his arm] The poor 'ave their troubles, there's no doubt. [He turns to go] There's nothin' can save her but money, so as she can do as she likes. Then she wouldn't want to do it.
MRS MARCH. I'm very sorry, but there it is.
BLY. And I thought she was goin' to be a success here. Fact is, you can't see anything till it 'appens. There's winders all round, but you can't see. Follow your instincts—it's the only way. ”

“ The MARCH'S dining-room on the same evening at the end of a perfunctory dinner. MRS MARCH sits at the dining-table with her back to the windows, MARY opposite the hearth, and MR MARCH with his back to it. JOHNNY is not present. Silence and gloom.
MR MARCH. We always seem to be eating.
MRS MARCH. You've eaten nothing.
MR MARCH. [Pouring himself out a liqueur glass of brandy but not drinking it] It's humiliating to think we can't exist without. ”

“ COOK. [Reproachfully] Oh! ma'am, I never touch a drop.
MRS MARCH. I didn't mean anything of that sort. But they do break out so.
COOK. Not Master Johnny.
MRS MARCH. Johnny! He's the worst of all. His poetry is nothing but one long explosion.
MR MARCH. [Coming from the window] I say We ought to have faith and jump.
MRS MARCH. If we do have Faith, we shall jump.
COOK. [Blankly] Of course, in the Bible they 'ad faith, and just look what it did to them!
MR MARCH. I mean faith in human instincts, human nature, Cook.
COOK. [Scandalised] Oh! no, sir, not human nature ”

“ COOK. Ah! But I'd do a lot of wrong things for Master Johnny. There's always some one you'll go wrong for!
MRS MARCH. Well, get Mr Bly; and take that tray, there's a good soul.
COOK goes out with the tray; and while waiting, MRS MARCH finishes clearing the table. She has not quite finished when MR BLY enters.
BLY. Your service, ma'am!
MRS MARCH. [With embarrassment] I'm very sorry, Mr Bly, but circumstances over which I have no control—
BLY. [With deprecation] Ah! we all has them. The winders ought to be done once a week now the Spring's on 'em. ”

“ Ah! but you mustn't 'ave instincts here, you know. You've got a chance, and you must come to stay, and do yourself credit.
FAITH. [Adapting her face] Yes, I know, I'm very lucky.
MR MARCH. [Deprecating thanks and moral precept] That's all right! Only, Mr Bly, I can't absolutely answer for Mrs March. She may think—
MARY. There is Mother; I heard the door.
BLY. [Taking up his pail] I quite understand, sir; I've been a married man myself. It's very queer the way women look at things. I'll take her away now, and come back presently and do these other winders. ”

“ It's a misfortune to a girl to be good-lookin'.
MR MARCH. [Rumpling his hair] No, no! Dash it all! Beauty's the only thing left worth living for.
BLY. Well, I like to see green grass and a blue sky; but it's a mistake in a 'uman bein'. Look at any young chap that's good-lookin'—'e's doomed to the screen, or hair-dressin'. Same with the girls. My girl went into an 'airdresser's at seventeen and in six months she was in trouble. ”

“ It's all earning; working and earning. I wish I were like the flowers. [She twirls the dower in her hand] Flowers don't work, and they don't get put in prison.
JOHNNY. [Putting his arm round her] Never mind! Cheer up! You're only a kid. You'll have a good time yet.
FAITH leans against him, as it were indifferently, clearly expecting him to kiss her, but he doesn't.
FAITH. When I was a little girl I had a cake covered with sugar. ”

“ We all have feelin's!
FAITH. Not below three hundred a year.
COOK. [Scandalised] Dear, dear! Where were you educated?
FAITH. I wasn't.
COOK. Tt! Well—it's wonderful what a change there is in girls since my young days [Pulling out a drawer] Here's the napkins. You change the master's every day at least because of his moustache and the others every two days, but always clean ones Sundays. Did you keep Sundays in there?
FAITH. [Smiling] Yes. Longer chapel.
COOK. It'll be a nice change for you, here. They don't go to Church; they're agnosticals. [Patting her shoulder] How old are you? ”

“ FAITH takes the tray from the sideboard and begins to clear the table, mainly by the light of nature. After a glance, MR MARCH looks out of the window and drums his fingers on the uncleaned pane. MR BLY goes on with his cleaning. MARY, after watching from the hearth, goes up and touches her father's arm. ”

“ She is personable, forty-eight, trim, well-dressed, and more matter-of-fact than seems plausible. MR MARCH is sitting in an armchair, sideways to the windows, smoking his pipe and reading his newspaper, with little explosions to which no one pays any attention, because it is his daily habit. He is a fine-looking man of fifty odd, with red-grey moustaches and hair, both of which stiver partly by nature and partly because his hands often push them up. MARY and JOHNNY are close to the fireplace, stage Right. JOHNNY sits on the fender, smoking a cigarette and warming his back. ”

“ Why! No one can take a baby from its mother.
FAITH. Except the Law.
COOK. Tt! Tt! Well! Here's the pickled onions. Miss Mary loves 'em! Now then, let me see you lay the cloth.
She takes a tablecloth out, hands it to FAITH, and while the girl begins to unfold the cloth she crosses to the service shutter.
And here's where we pass the dishes through into the pantry.
The door is opened, and MRS MARCH'S voice says: "Cook—a minute!"
[Preparing to go] Salt cellars one at each corner—four, and the peppers. [From the door] Now the decanters. Oh! you'll soon get on. [MRS MARCH "Cook!"] ”

“ And here's a letter from the chaplain in one of the prisons sayin' she took a lot of interest in him; a nice young man, I believe. [He suddenly brushes a tear out of his eye with the back of his hand] I never thought I could 'a felt like I did over her bein' in prison. Seemed a crool senseless thing—that pretty girl o' mine. All over a baby that hadn't got used to bein' alive. Tain't as if she'd been follerin' her instincts; why, she missed that baby something crool.
MR MARCH. Of course, human life—even an infant's——
BLY. I know you've got to 'ave a close time for it. ”