Mr. Freeman (shouting): John!
John (refusing to be stopped): It’s no good. It’s got to come out now. You, who sat at home here in comfort all those five years of hell.
Mr. Freeman (bewildered): Sat at home!
John: You don’t know what I’m talking about! You’ve forgotten. I’ll tell you. (He is possessed by an overwhelming rage.) Your generation has done ours in! Smashed it! Millions! If we were to stand at that window and they marched past us, they’d march all day, and all night, and all day again—for days and nights. Dead men. Dead. For what? They died to end war; to make a better world; and before their corpses have rotted into earth, new wars are preparing and the world’s a dam’ sight worse—and you? Is there one word of apology in you? One word of humility? No. The same old pride; and blindness; and intolerance. Because I don’t want to live as you’ve lived, I’m lazy; because Gwen wants to live, not exactly as her mother and grandmother lived, she’s mad or wanton! Good God in Heaven! if there’s one way that’s been proved wrong it’s your way! If we live exactly as you lived, it’ll all happen over again!...
[He comes to a sudden stop. The silence in the room is complete. He seems to have burnt himself out; and Mr. Freeman to be knocked mentally head-over-heels, and to be only partially conscious. John breaks the silence in a low voice:
Sorry. I lost my temper. I’ve got it again now.... I was rude. I’m sorry.... We only ask that you should go your way: and leave us to find ours. I beg your pardon. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be friends.
Mr. Freeman: Friends!
John: Yes.
Mr. Freeman (to Gwen): Do you suppose your mother will ever lift up her head again?
Gwen: We could be far better friends when she knows.