“But WON'T they?” said Struthers.
“Not unless you put your head in their hands,” said Lilly.
“I don't know—” said Jim.
But the curtain had risen, they hushed him into silence.
All through the next scene, Julia puzzled herself, as to whether she should go down to the country and live with Scott. She had carried on a nervous kind of amour with him, based on soul sympathy and emotional excitement. But whether to go and live with him? She didn't know if she wanted to or not: and she couldn't for her life find out. She was in that nervous state when desire seems to evaporate the moment fulfilment is offered.
When the curtain dropped she turned.
“You see,” she said, screwing up her eyes, “I have to think of Robert.” She cut the word in two, with an odd little hitch in her voice—“ROB-ert.”
“My dear Julia, can't you believe that I'm tired of being thought of,” cried Robert, flushing.
Julia screwed up her eyes in a slow smile, oddly cogitating.
“Well, who AM I to think of?” she asked.