MR MARCH. [Going up to him] Very well, Mr Bly! See her home, carefully.
Good-night!
BLY. Shake hands!
He extends his other hand; MR MARCH grasps it and turns him round
towards the door.
MR MARCH. Now, take her away! Cook, go and open the front door for Mr
Bly and his daughter.
BLY. Too many Cooks!
MR MARCH. Now then, Mr Bly, take her along!
BLY. [Making no attempt to acquire the real FAITH—to an apparition which he leads with his right hand] You're the one that died when my girl was 'ung. Will you go—first or shall—I?
The apparition does not answer.
MARY. Don't! It's horrible!
FAITH. I did die.