julia. You just wish yourself elsewhere; and you come back when you like.
martha. Have you ever done it?
julia (with a world of meaning). Not yet.
martha. She won't like it. One doesn't belong to one's self, when she's about—nor does anything. I've had to hide my own things from her sometimes.
julia. I shouldn't wonder.
martha. Do you remember the silver tea-pot?
julia. I've been reminded of it.
martha. It was mine, wasn't it?
julia. Oh, of course.
martha. Laura never would admit it was mine. She wanted it; so I'd no right to it.