julia. Well, Laura, it's the world as we knew it—that for the present. No doubt other things will come in time, gradually. But I don't know: I don't ask questions.
laura (doubtfully). I suppose it is Heaven, in a way, though?
julia. Dispensation has its own ways, Laura; and we have ours.
laura (who is not going to be theologically dictated to by anyone lower than Dean Farrar). Julia, I shall start washing the old china again.
julia. As you like; nothing ever gets soiled here.
laura. It's all very puzzling. The world seems cut in half. Things don't seem real.
julia. More real, I should say. We have them—as we wish them to be.
laura. Then why can't we have our Mother, like other things?
julia. Ah, with persons it is different. We all belong to ourselves now. That one has to accept.
laura (stubbornly). Does William belong to himself?