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-- MRS MARCH. Oh! You were! MR MARCH. But I can quite see why Johnny-- MRS MARCH. The Government, I suppose! MR MARCH. Certainly. MRS MARCH. Well, perhaps you'll get us out of the mess you've got us into. MR MARCH. Where's the girl? MRS MARCH. In her room-packing. MR MARCH. We must devise means-- MRS MARCH smiles. The first thing is to see into them--and find out exactly-- MRS MARCH. Heavens! Are you going to have them X-rayed? They haven't got chest trouble, Geof. MR MARCH. They may have heart trouble. It's no good being hasty, Joan. MRS MARCH. Oh! For a man that can't see an inch into human nature, give me a--psychological novelist! MR MARCH. [With dignity] Mary, go and see where Johnny is. MARY. Do you want him here? MR MARCH. Yes. MARY. [Dubiously] Well--if I can. She goes out. A silence, during which the MARCHES look at each other by those turns which characterise exasperated domesticity. MRS MARCH. If she doesn't go, Johnny must. Are you going to turn him out? MR MARCH. Of course not. We must reason with him. MRS MARCH. Reason with young people whose lips were glued together half an hour ago! Why ever did you force me to take this girl? MR MARCH. [Ruefully] 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. MR MARCH. Good Lord! Direct action! MARY. He's got his pipe, a pound of chocolate, three volumes of "Monte Cristo," and his old concertina. He says it's better than the trenches. MR MARCH. My hat! Johnny's made a joke. This is serious. MARY. Nobody can get up, and she can't get down. He says he'll stay there till all's blue, and it's no use either of you coming unless mother caves in. MR MARCH. I wonder if Cook could do anything with him? MARY. She's tried. He told her to go to hell. MR MARCH. I Say! And what did Cook--? MARY. She's gone. MR MARCH. Tt! tt! This is very awkward. COOK enters through the door which MARY has left open. MR MARCH. Ah, Cook! You're back, then? What's to be done?