MRS MARCH. A what?
BLY. Nothin'll ever make her regular. Mr March'll understand how I feel. Poor girl! In the mud again. Well, we must keep smilin'. [His face is as long as his arm] The poor 'ave their troubles, there's no doubt. [He turns to go] There's nothin' can save her but money, so as she can do as she likes. Then she wouldn't want to do it.
MRS MARCH. I'm very sorry, but there it is.
BLY. And I thought she was goin' to be a success here. Fact is, you can't see anything till it 'appens. There's winders all round, but you can't see. Follow your instincts—it's the only way.
MRS MARCH. It hasn't helped your daughter.
BLY. I was speakin' philosophic! Well, I'll go 'ome now, and prepare meself for the worst.
MRS MARCH. Has Cook given you your money?
BLY. She 'as.
He goes out gloomily and is nearly overthrown in the doorway by the violent entry of JOHNNY.
JOHNNY. What's this, Mother? I won't have it—it's pre-war.