love and fond affection, from Emily.' Fond fiddlesticks! Humbug! She knows
I can't abide her.

JULIA. I suppose she thought it was the correct thing.

LAURA. And I doubt if it cost more than ten shillings. Now Mrs.
Dobson--you remember her: she lives in Tudor Street with a daughter one
never sees--something wrong in her head, and has fits--she sent me a cross
of lilies, white lilac, and stephanotis, as handsome as you could wish;
and a card--I forget what was on the card.... Julia, when you died--

JULIA. Oh, don't Laura!

LAURA. Well, you did die, didn't you?

JULIA. Here one doesn't talk of it. That's over. There are things you will
have to learn.

LAURA. What I was going to say was--when I died I found my sight was much
better. I could read all the cards without my glasses. Do _you_ use
glasses?

JULIA. Sometimes, for association. I have these of our dear Mother's in
her tortoise-shell case.

LAURA. That reminds me. Where is our Mother?

JULIA. She comes--sometimes.

LAURA. Why isn't she here always?