Mrs March.  I can imagine it.  But no girl gets “outed,” as you call it, unless she’s predisposed that way.

Johnny.  That’s all you know of the pressure of life.

Mrs March.  Excuse me, Johnny.  I worked three years among factory girls, and I know how they manage to resist things when they’ve got stuff in them.

Johnny.  Yes, I know what you mean by stuff—­good hard self-preservative instinct.  Why should the wretched girl who hasn’t got that be turned down?  She wants protection all the more.

Mrs March.  I’ve offered to help with money till she gets a place.

Johnny.  And you know she won’t take it.  She’s got that much stuff in her.  This place is her only chance.  I appeal to you, Mother—­please tell her not to go.

Mrs March.  I shall not, Johnny.

Johnny. [Turning abruptly] Then we know where we are.

Mrs March.  I know where you’ll be before a week’s over.

Johnny.  Where?

Mrs March.  In her arms.

Johnny. [From the door, grimly] If I am, I’ll have the right to be!

Mrs March.  Johnny! [But he is gone.]

     Mrs March follows to call him back, but is met by Mary.

Mary.  So you’ve tumbled, Mother?

Mrs March.  I should think I have!  Johnny is making an idiot of himself about that girl.

Mary.  He’s got the best intentions.

Mrs March.  It’s all your father.  What can one expect when your father carries on like a lunatic over his paper every morning?

Mary.  Father must have opinions of his own.

Mrs March.  He has only one:  Whatever is, is wrong.

Mary.  He can’t help being intellectual, Mother.

Mrs March.  If he would only learn that the value of a sentiment is the amount of sacrifice you are prepared to make for it!

Mary.  Yes:  I read that in “The Times” yesterday.  Father’s much safer than Johnny.  Johnny isn’t safe at all; he might make a sacrifice any day.  What were they doing?

Mrs March.  Cook caught them kissing.

Mary.  How truly horrible!

     As she speaks Mr March comes in.

Mr March.  I met Johnny using the most poetic language.  What’s happened?

Mrs March.  He and that girl.  Johnny’s talking nonsense about wanting to save her.  I’ve told her to pack up.

Mr March.  Isn’t that rather coercive, Joan?

Mrs March.  Do you approve of Johnny getting entangled with this girl?

Mr March.  No.  I was only saying to Mary—­