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 under the
rose, as they call it? Wonderful the difference money makes when it
comes to bein' outside the Law.

MR MARCH. Right you are, Mr Bly. God's on the side of the big