julia. Oh, Laura, you'll wake the dead! (She gasps, but it is too late: the hated word is out.)
laura (as one who will be obeyed). William!
(The door does not open; but there appears through it the indistinct figure of an elderly gentleman with a weak chin and a shifting eye. He stands irresolute and apprehensive; clearly his presence there is perfunctory. Wearing his hat and carrying a hand-bag, he seems merely to have looked in while passing.)
julia. Apparently you are to have your wish. (She waves an introductory hand; Mrs. James turns, and regards the unsatisfactory apparition with suspicion.)
laura. William, is that you?
william (nervously). Yes, my dear; it's me.
laura. Can't you be more distinct than that?
william. Why do you want me?
laura. Have you forgotten I'm your wife?
william. I thought you were my widow, my dear.