JOHNNY. She is not. Look at me!
MRS MARCH looks at him from across the dining-table, for he has marched up to it, till they are staring at each other across the now cleared rosewood.
MRS MARCH. How are you going to stop her?
JOHNNY. Oh, I'll stop her right enough. If I stuck it out in Hell, I can stick it out in Highgate.
MRS MARCH. Johnny, listen. I've watched this girl; and I don't watch what I want to see—like your father—I watch what is. She's not a hard case—yet; but she will be.
JOHNNY. And why? Because all you matter-of-fact people make up your minds to it. What earthly chance has she had?
MRS MARCH. She's a baggage. There are such things, you know, Johnny.
JOHNNY. She's a little creature who went down in the scrum and has been kicked about ever since.
MRS MARCH. I'll give her money, if you'll keep her at arm's length.
JOHNNY. I call that revolting. What she wants is the human touch.