YOUNG M. I'm off! Bong Swore la Companee! He tarns on his heel and walks out unhindered. P. C. MAN. [Deeply] A bad hat, that; if ever there was one. We'll be having him again before long. He looks at FAITH. They all look at FAITH. But her face is so strange, so tremulous, that they all turn their eyes away. FAITH. He--he said--he--! On the verge of an emotional outbreak, she saves herself by an effort. A painful silence. P. C. MAN. Well, sir--that's all. Good evening! He turns to the door, touching his forehead to MR MARCH, and goes. As the door closes, FAITH sinks into a chair, and burying her face in her hands, sobs silently. MRS MARCH sits motionless with a faint smile. JOHNNY stands at the window biting his nails. MARY crosses to FAITH. MARY. [Softly] Don't. You weren't really fond of him? FAITH bends her head. MARY. But how could you? He-- FAITH. I--I couldn't see inside him. MARY. Yes; but he looked--couldn't you see he looked--? FAITH. [Suddenly flinging up her head] If you'd been two years without a word, you'd believe anyone that said he liked you. MARY. Perhaps I should. FAITH. But I don't want him--he's a liar. I don't like liars. MARY. I'm awfully sorry. FAITH. [Looking at her] Yes--you keep off feeling--then you'll be happy! [Rising] Good-bye! MARY. Where are you going? FAITH. To my father. MARY. With him in that state? FAITH. He won't hurt me. MARY. You'd better stay. Mother, she can stay, can't she? MRS MARCH nods. FAITH. No! MARY. Why not? We're all sorry. Do! You'd better. FAITH. Father'll come over for my things tomorrow. MARY. What are you going to do? FAITH. [Proudly] I'll get on. JOHNNY. [From the window] Stop! All turn and look at him. He comes down. Will you come to me? FAITH stares at him. MRS MARCH continues to smile faintly. MARY. [With a horrified gesture] Johnny! JOHNNY. Will you? I'll play cricket if you do. MR MARCH. [Under his breath] Good God! He stares in suspense at FAITH, whose face is a curious blend of fascination and live feeling. JOHNNY. Well? FAITH. [Softly] Don't be silly! I've got no call on you. 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!