MRS MARCH. I can imagine it. But no girl gets "outed," as you call it, unless she's predisposed that way.
JOHNNY. That's all you know of the pressure of life.
MRS MARCH. Excuse me, Johnny. I worked three years among factory girls, and I know how they manage to resist things when they've got stuff in them.
JOHNNY. Yes, I know what you mean by stuff—good hard self-preservative instinct. Why should the wretched girl who hasn't got that be turned down? She wants protection all the more.
MRS MARCH. I've offered to help with money till she gets a place.
JOHNNY. And you know she won't take it. She's got that much stuff in her. This place is her only chance. I appeal to you, Mother—please tell her not to go.
MRS MARCH. I shall not, Johnny.
JOHNNY. [Turning abruptly] Then we know where we are.
MRS MARCH. I know where you'll be before a week's over.
JOHNNY. Where?