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do we keep them? For instance,
why don't we make Mary and Mother work for us like Kafir women?
We could lick them into it. Why did we give women the vote? Why
free slaves; why anything decent for the little and weak?
MR MARCH. Well, you might say it was convenient for people living
in communities.
JOHNNY. I don't think it's convenient at all. I should like to make
Mary sweat. Why not jungle law, if there's nothing in chivalry.
MR MARCH. Chivalry is altruism, Johnny. Of course it's quite a
question whether altruism isn't enlightened self-interest!
JOHNNY. Oh! Damn!
The lank and shirt-sleeved figure of MR BLY, with a pail of water and
cloths, has entered, and stands near the window, Left.
BLY. Beg pardon, Mr March; d'you mind me cleanin' the winders
here?
MR MARCH. Not a bit.
JOHNNY. Bankrupt of ideals. That's it!
MR BLY stares at him, and puts his pail down by the window.
MARY has entered with her father's writing materials which she puts
on a stool beside him.
MARY. Here you are, Dad! I've filled up the ink pot. Do be careful!
Come on, Johnny!

She looks curiously at MR BLY, who has begun operations at the
bottom of the left-hand window, and goes, followed by JOHNNY.
MR MARCH. [Relighting his pipe and preparing his materials] What
do you think of things, Mr Bly?
BLY. Not much, sir.
MR MARCH. Ah! [He looks up at MR BLY, struck by his large
philosophical eyes and moth-eaten moustache] Nor I.
BLY. I rather thought that, sir, from your writin's.
MR MARCH. Oh! Do you read?
BLY. I was at sea, once--formed the 'abit.
MR MARCH. Read any of my novels?
BLY. Not to say all through--I've read some of your articles in the
Sunday papers, though. Make you think!
MR MARCH. I'm at sea now--don't see dry land anywhere, Mr Bly.
BLY. [With a smile] That's right.
MR MARCH. D'you find that the general impression?
BLY. No. People don't think. You 'ave to 'ave some cause for thought.
MR MARCH. Cause enough in the papers.
BLY. It's nearer 'ome with me. I've often thought I'd like a talk with
you, sir. But I'm keepin' you. [He prepares to swab the pane.]
MR MARCH. Not at all. I enjoy it. Anything to put off work.
BLY. [Looking at MR MARCH, then giving a wipe at the window]
What's drink to one is drought to another. I've seen two men take a
drink out of the same can--one die of it and the other get off with a pain
in his stomach.
MR MARCH. You've seen a lot, I expect.
BLY. Ah! I've been on the beach in my day. [He sponges at the
window] It's given me a way o' lookin' at things that I don't find in
other people. Look at the 'Ome Office. They got no philosophy.
MR MARCH. [Pricking his ears] What? Have you had dealings with
them?
BLY. Over the reprieve that was got up for my daughter. But I'm
keepin' you.
He swabs at the window, but always at the same pane, so that he does
not advance at all.
MR MARCH. Reprieve?
BLY. Ah! She was famous at eighteen. The Sunday Mercury was full

of her, when she was in prison.
MR MARCH. [Delicately] Dear me! I'd no idea.
BLY. She's out now; been out a fortnight. I always say that fame's
ephemereal. But she'll never settle to that weavin'. Her head got turned
a bit.
MR MARCH. I'm afraid I'm in the dark, Mr Bly.
BLY. [Pausing--dipping his sponge in the pail and then standing with it
in his hand] Why! Don't you remember the Bly case? They sentenced
'er to be 'anged by the neck until she was dead, for smotherin' her baby.
She was only eighteen at the time of speakin'.
MR MARCH. Oh! yes! An inhuman business!
BLY. All! The jury recommended 'er to mercy. So they reduced it to
Life.
MR MARCH. Life! Sweet Heaven!
BLY. That's what I said; so they give her two years. I don't hold with
the Sunday Mercury, but it put that over. It's a misfortune to a girl to be
good-lookin'.
MR MARCH. [Rumpling his hair] No, no! Dash it all! Beauty's the
only thing left worth living for.
BLY. Well, I like to see green grass and a blue sky; but it's a mistake in
a 'uman bein'. Look at any young chap that's good-lookin'--'e's doomed
to the screen, or hair-dressin'. Same with the girls. My girl went into an
'airdresser's at seventeen and in six months she was in trouble. When I
saw 'er with a rope round her neck, as you might say, I said to meself:
"Bly," I said, "you're responsible for this. If she 'adn't