JULIA (_knowing better_). The dear Mother seldom stays long, except
when she finds me alone.

(_Having insinuated this barb into the flesh of her 'dear sister,' she
takes up her crochet with an air of great contentment. Mrs. James,
meanwhile, to make herself more at home, now that tea is finished, undoes
her bonnet-strings with a tug, and lets them hang. She is not in the best
of tempers.)_

LAURA. I don't believe she recognised me. Why did she keep on calling me
'Jane'?

JULIA. She took you for poor Aunt Jane, I fancy.

LAURA (_infuriated at being taken for anyone 'poor'_).
Why should she do that, pray?

JULIA. Well, there always was a likeness, you know; and you are older than
you were, Laura.

LAURA (_crushingly_). Does 'poor Aunt Jane' wear widow's weeds?
(_This reminds her not only of her own condition, but of other things as
well. She sits up and takes a stiller bigger bite into her new world_.)
Julia!... Where's William?

JULIA. I haven't inquired.

LAURA (_self-importance and a sense of duty consuming her_.) I wish
to see him.