_)

LAURA. I don't believe she recognised me. Why did she keep on calling me
'Jane'?

JULIA. She took you for poor Aunt Jane, I fancy.

LAURA (_infuriated at being taken for anyone 'poor'_). Why should she do
that, pray?

JULIA. Well, there always was a likeness, you know; and you are older
than you were, Laura.

LAURA (_crushingly_). Does 'poor Aunt Jane' wear widow's weeds? (_This
reminds her not only of her own condition, but of other things as well.
She sits up and takes a stiller bigger bite into her new world._) Julia!
. . . Where's William?

JULIA. I haven't inquired.

LAURA (_self-importance and a sense of duty consuming her_). I wish to
see him.

JULIA. Better not, as it didn't occur to you before.

LAURA. Am I not to see my own husband, pray?

JULIA. He didn't ever live _here_, you know.

LAURA. He can come, I suppose. He has got legs like the rest of us.

JULIA. Yes, but one can't force people: at least, not here. You should
remember that--before he married you--he had other ties.

(_Mrs. James preserves her self-possession, but there is battle in her
eye._)

LAURA. He was married to me longer than he was to Isabel.

JULIA. They had children.

LAURA. I could have had children if I chose. I didn't choose. . . .
Julia, how am I to see him?

JULIA (_washing her hands of it_). You must manage for yourself, Laura.

LAURA. I'm puzzled! Here are we in the next world just as we expected,
and where are all the--? I mean, oughtn't we to be seeing a great many
more things than we do?

JULIA. What sort of things?

LAURA. Well, . . . have you seen Moses and the Prophets?

JULIA. I haven't looked for them, Laura. On Sundays, I still go to hear
Mr. Moore.

LAURA. That's you all over! You never would go to the celebrated
preachers. But I mean to. (_Pious curiosity awakens._) What happens here,
on Sundays?

JULIA (_smiling_). Oh, just the same.

LAURA. No _High_ Church ways, I hope? If they go in for that here, I
shall go out!

JULIA (_patiently explanatory_). You will go out if you wish to go out.
You can choose your church. As I tell you, I always go to hear Mr. Moore;
you can go and hear Canon Farrar.

LAURA. Dean Farrar, I _suppose_ you mean.

JULIA. He was not Dean in my day.

LAURA. He ought to have been a Bishop--_Arch_bishop, _I_ think--so
learned, and such a magnificent preacher. But I still wonder why we don't
see Moses and the Prophets.

JULIA. Well, Laura, it's the world as