Johnny.  He would have, if he’d been me.

     He says it unconsciously, but faith is instantly conscious of the
     implication.

Faith.  He’d rather have had pennies, though.  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.  I ate the sugar all off and then I didn’t want the cake—­not much.

Johnny. [Suddenly, removing his arm] Gosh!  If I could write a poem that would show everybody what was in the heart of everybody else—!

Faith.  It’d be too long for the papers, wouldn’t it?

Johnny.  It’d be too strong.

Faith.  Besides, you don’t know.

     Her eyelids go up.

Johnny. [Staring at her] I could tell what’s in you now.

Faith.  What?

Johnny.  You feel like a flower that’s been picked.

FAITH’s smile is enigmatic.

Faith. [Suddenly] Why do you go on about me so?

Johnny.  Because you’re weak—­little and weak. [Breaking out again] Damn it!  We went into the war to save the little and weak; at least we said so; and look at us now!  The bottom’s out of all that. [Bitterly] There isn’t a faith or an illusion left.  Look here!  I want to help you.

Faith. [Surprisingly] My baby was little and weak.

Johnny.  You never meant—­You didn’t do it for your own advantage.

Faith.  It didn’t know it was alive. [Suddenly] D’you think I’m pretty?

Johnny.  As pie.

Faith.  Then you’d better keep away, hadn’t you?

Johnny.  Why?

Faith.  You might want a bite.

Johnny.  Oh!  I can trust myself.

Faith. [Turning to the window, through which can be seen the darkening of a shower] It’s raining.  Father says windows never stay clean.

They stand dose together, unaware that Cook has thrown up the service shutter, to see why the clearing takes so long.  Her astounded head and shoulders pass into view just as faith suddenly puts up her face.  Johnny’s lips hesitate, then move towards her forehead.  But her face shifts, and they find themselves upon her lips.  Once there, the emphasis cannot help but be considerable.  Cook’s mouth falls open.

Cook.  Oh!

     She closes the shutter, vanishing.