MRS MARCH. It's at least as important, Johnny, to see into ourselves as into other people. I've been trying to make your father understand that ever since we married. He'd be such a good writer if he did—he wouldn't write at all.
JOHNNY. Father has imagination.
MRS MARCH. And no business to meddle with practical affairs. You and he always ride in front of the hounds. Do you remember when the war broke out, how angry you were with me because I said we were fighting from a sense of self-preservation? Well, weren't we?
JOHNNY. That's what I'm doing now, anyway.
MRS MARCH. Saving this girl, to save yourself?
JOHNNY. I must have something decent to do sometimes. There isn't an ideal left.
MRS MARCH. If you knew how tired I am of the word, Johnny!
JOHNNY. There are thousands who feel like me—that the bottom's out of everything. It sickens me that anything in the least generous should get sat on by all you people who haven't risked your lives.
MRS MARCH. [With a smile] I risked mine when you were born, Johnny.
You were always very difficult.
JOHNNY. That girl's been telling me—I can see the whole thing.