JOHNNY. It's a chance to make something decent out of her.
MRS MARCH. I can't understand this passion for vicarious heroism,
Johnny.
JOHNNY. Vicarious!
MRS MARCH. Well, where do you come in? You'll make poems about the injustice of the Law. Your father will use her in a novel. She'll wear Mary's blouses, and everybody will be happy—except Cook and me.
MR MARCH. Hang it all, Joan, you might be the Great Public itself!
MRS MARCH. I am—get all the kicks and none of the ha'pence.
JOHNNY. We'll all help you.
MRS MARCH. For Heaven's sake—no, Johnny!
MR MARCH. Well, make up your mind!
MRS MARCH. It was made up long ago.