BLY. I know parents are out of date; still, I've put up with a lot on your account, so gimme a bit of me own back.
FAITH. I don't know whether I shall like this. I've been shut up so long. I want to see some life.
BLY. Well, that's natural. But I want you to do well. I suppose you'll be comin' 'ome to fetch your things to-night?
FAITH. Yes.
BLY. I'll have a flower for you. What'd you like—daffydils?
FAITH. No; one with a scent to it.
BLY. I'll ask at Mrs Bean's round the corner.
She'll pick 'em out from what's over. Never 'ad much nose for a flower meself. I often thought you'd like a flower when you was in prison.
FAITH. [A little touched] Did you? Did you really?
BLY. Ah! I suppose I've drunk more glasses over your bein' in there than over anything that ever 'appened to me. Why! I couldn't relish the war for it! And I suppose you 'ad none to relish. Well, it's over. So, put an 'eart into it.