JULIA. [Picking up the razor with a significant gesture] Like this?

JEAN. Yes!--But please observe that I myself wouldn't do it, for
there is a difference between us.

JULIA. Because you are a man and I a woman? What is the difference?

JEAN. It is the same--as--that between man and woman.

JULIA. [With the razor in her hand] I want to, but I cannot!--My
father couldn't either, that time he should have done it.

JEAN. No, he should not have done it, for he had to get his revenge
first.

JULIA. And now it is my mother's turn to revenge herself again,
through me.

JEAN. Have you not loved your father, Miss Julia?

JULIA. Yes, immensely, but I must have hated him, too. I think I
must have been doing so without being aware of it. But he was the
one who reared me in contempt for my own sex--half woman and half
man! Whose fault is it, this that has happened? My father's--my
mother's--my own? My own? Why, I have nothing that is my own. I
haven't a thought that didn't come from my father; not a passion
that didn't come from my mother; and now this last--this about all
human creatures being equal--I got that from him, my fiancé--whom I
call a scoundrel for that reason! How can it be my own fault? To