JOHNNY. Who?
MARY. Only the Old-Un.
MR MARCH. This is absolutely Prussian!
MRS MARCH. Soup, lobster, chicken salad. Go to Mrs Hunt's.
MR MARCH. And this fellow hasn't the nous to see that if ever there were a moment when it would pay us to take risks, and be generous—My hat! He ought to be—knighted! [Resumes his paper.]
JOHNNY. [Muttering] You see, even Dad can't suggest chivalry without talking of payment for it. That shows how we've sunk.
MARY. [Contemptuously] Chivalry! Pouf! Chivalry was "off" even before the war, Johnny. Who wants chivalry?
JOHNNY. Of all shallow-pated humbug—that sneering at chivalry's the worst. Civilisation—such as we've got—is built on it.
MARY. [Airily] Then it's built on sand. [She sits beside him on the fender.]
JOHNNY. Sneering and smartness! Pah!