me! I'd no idea.

BLY. She's out now; been out a fortnight. I always say that fame's
ephemereal. But she'll never settle to that weavin'. Her head got
turned a bit.

MR MARCH. I'm afraid I'm in the dark, Mr Bly.

BLY. [Pausing--dipping his sponge in the pail and then standing with it
in his hand] Why! Don't you remember the Bly case? They sentenced 'er
to be 'anged by the neck until she was dead, for smotherin' her baby.
She was only eighteen at the time of speakin'.

MR MARCH. Oh! yes! An inhuman business!

BLY. All! The jury recommended 'er to mercy. So they reduced it to
Life.

MR MARCH. Life! Sweet Heaven!

BLY. That's what I said; so they give her two years. I don't hold with
the Sunday Mercury, but it put that over. It's a misfortune to a girl to
be good-lookin'.

MR MARCH. [Rumpling his hair] No, no! Dash it all! Beauty's the only
thing left worth living for.

BLY. Well, I like to see green grass and a blue sky; but it's a mistake
in a 'uman bein'. Look at any young chap that's good-lookin'--'e's
doomed to the screen, or hair-dressin'. Same with the girls. My girl
went into an 'airdresser's at seventeen and in six months she was in
trouble. When I saw 'er with a rope round her neck, as you might say,
I said to meself: "Bly," I said, "you're responsible for this. If she
'adn't been good-lookin'--it'd never 'eve 'appened."

During this speech MARY has come in with a tray, to clear the
breakfast, and stands unnoticed at the dining-table, arrested by
the curious words of MR BLY.

MR MARCH. Your wife might not have thought that you were wholly the
cause, Mr Bly.

BLY. Ah! My wife. She's passed on. But Faith--that's my girl's
name--she never was like 'er mother; there's no 'eredity in 'er on that
side.

MR MARCH. What sort of girl is she?

BLY. One for colour--likes a bit o' music--likes a dance, and a flower.

MARY. [Interrupting softly] Dad, I was going to clear, but I'll come
back later.

MR MARCH. Come here and listen to this! Here's a story to get your
blood up! How old was the baby, Mr Bly?

BLY. Two days--'ardly worth mentionin'. They say she 'ad the
'ighstrikes after--an' when she comes to she says: "I've saved my baby's
life." An' that's true enough when you come to think what that sort o'
baby goes through as a rule; dragged up by somebody else's hand, or took
away by the Law. What can a workin' girl do with a baby born und