MARTHA (_awe-struck)._ Has she?

JULIA (_shaking her head wisely_). William won't live with her; he
knows better.

MARTHA. Who will live with her, then? She's bound to get hold of somebody.

JULIA. Apparently she means to live here.

MARTHA. Then it's going to be me! I know it's going to be me! When we
lived here before, it used to be poor Mamma.

JULIA. The dear Mother is quite capable of looking after herself, you'll
find. You needn't belong to Laura if you don't like, Martha. I never let
her take possession of _me_.

MARTHA. She seems never to want to. I don't know how you manage it.

JULIA. Oh, we've had our little tussles. But here you will find it much
easier. You can vanish.

MARTHA. What do you mean?

JULIA. I mean--vanish. It takes the place of wings. One does it almost
without knowing.

MARTHA. How do you do it?

JULIA. You just wish yourself elsewhere; and you come back when you like.