MRS MARCH. Well, perhaps you'll get us out of the mess you've got us into.
MR MARCH. Where's the girl?
MRS MARCH. In her room-packing.
MR MARCH. We must devise means—
MRS MARCH smiles.
The first thing is to see into them—and find out exactly—
MRS MARCH. Heavens! Are you going to have them X-rayed? They haven't got chest trouble, Geof.
MR MARCH. They may have heart trouble. It's no good being hasty, Joan.
MRS MARCH. Oh! For a man that can't see an inch into human nature, give me a—psychological novelist!
MR MARCH. [With dignity] Mary, go and see where Johnny is.