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. FAITH. What was that? JOHNNY. Nothing. [Breaking away] Look here! I didn't mean--I oughtn't to have--Please forget it! FAITH. [With a little smile] Didn't you like it? JOHNNY. Yes--that's just it. I didn't mean to It won't do. FAITH. Why not? JOHNNY. No, no! It's just the opposite of what--No, no! He goes to the door, wrenches it open and goes out. FAITH, still with that little half-mocking, half-contented smile, resumes the clearing of the table. She is interrupted by the entrance through the French windows of MR MARCH and MARY, struggling with one small wet umbrella. MARY. [Feeling his sleeve] Go and change, Dad. MR MARCH. Women's shoes! We could have made the Tube but for your shoes. MARY. It was your cold feet, not mine, dear. [Looking at FAITH and nudging him] Now! She goes towards the door, turns to look at FAITH still clearing the table, and goes out. MR MARCH. [In front of the hearth] Nasty spring weather, Faith. FAITH. [Still in the mood of the kiss] Yes, Sir. MR MARCH. [Sotto voce] "In the spring a young man's fancy." I--I wanted to say something to you in a friendly way.