JULIA. She was not in it when I came.
LAURA. How could you expect it, in a house all by herself?
JULIA. I gave her the chance: I began by occupying my own room.
LAURA (_self-caressingly). I_ wasn't here then. That didn't occur to
you, I suppose? You seem to forget you weren't the only one.
JULIA. Kind of you to remind me.
LAURA. Saucy.
JULIA. Martha, will you excuse me?
(_Polite to the last, she vanishes gracefully away from the vicinity of
the coal-box. The place where she has been stooping knows her no
more_.)
LAURA (_rushing round the intervening table to investigate_). Julia!
(_Martha is quite as much surprised as Mrs. James, but less
indignant_.)
MARTHA. Well! Did you ever?
LAURA (_facing about after vain search_). Does she think that is the
proper way to behave to _me?_ Julia!
MARTHA. It's no good, Laura. You know Julia, as well as I do. If she makes
up her mind to a thing--
LAURA. Yes. She's been waiting here to exercise her patience on me, and
now she's happy! Well, she'll have to learn that this house doesn't belong
to _her_ any longer. She has got to accommodate herself to living
with others.... I wonder how she'd like me to go and sit in that pet chair
of hers?
JULIA (_softly reappearing in the chair which the 'dear Mother' usually
occupies_). You can go and sit in it if you wish, Laura.
LAURA (_ignoring her return_). Martha, do you remember that odious
man who used to live next door, who played the 'cello on Sundays?
MARTHA.
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