JOHNNY. Mother, you're like the papers—you put in all the vice and leave out all the virtue, and call that human nature. The kiss was an accident that I bitterly regret.
MRS MARCH. Johnny, how can you?
JOHNNY. Dash it! You know what I mean. I regret it with my—my conscience. It shan't occur again.
MRS MARCH. Till next time.
JOHNNY. Mother, you make me despair. You're so matter-of-fact, you never give one credit for a pure ideal.
MRS MARCH. I know where ideals lead.
JOHNNY. Where?
MRS MARCH. Into the soup. And the purer they are, the hotter the soup.
JOHNNY. And you married father!
MRS MARCH. I did.