Julia (quickly looking up).  So they are.

Charteris.  Well, then, I’ll come to grievances that even you can understand.  I accuse you of habitual and intolerable jealousy and ill temper; of insulting me on imaginary provocation:  of positively beating me; of stealing letters of mine—­

Julia (rising).  Yes, nice letters.

Charteris. —­of breaking your solemn promises not to do it again; of spending hours—­aye, days! piecing together the contents of my waste paper basket in your search for more letters; and then representing yourself as an ill used saint and martyr wantonly betrayed and deserted by a selfish monster of a man.

Julia.  I was justified in reading your letters.  Our perfect confidence in one another gave me the right to do it.

Charteris.  Thank you.  Then I hasten to break off a confidence which gives such rights. (Sits down sulkily on sofa.)

Julia (with her right hand on the back of the sofa, bending over him threateningly).  You have no right to break it off.

Charteris.  I have.  You refused to marry me because—­

Julia.  I did not.  You never asked me.  If we were married, you would never dare treat me as you are doing now.

Charteris (laboriously going back to his argument).  It was understood between us as people of advanced views that we were not to marry because, as the law stands, I might have become a drunkard, a—­

Julia. —­a criminal, an imbecile or a horror.  You said that before.  (Sits down beside him with a fling.)

Charteris (politely).  I beg your pardon, my dear.  I know I have a habit of repeating myself.  The point is that you reserved your freedom to give me up when you pleased.

Julia.  Well, what of that?  I do not please to give you up; and I will not.  You have not become a drunkard or a criminal.

Charteris.  You don’t see the point yet, Julia.  You seem to forget that in reserving your freedom to leave me in case I should turn out badly, you also reserved my freedom to leave you in case you should turn out badly.

Julia.  Very ingenious.  And pray, have I become a drunkard, or a criminal, or an imbecile?

Charteris (rising).  You have become what is infinitely worse than all three together—­a jealous termagant.

Julia (shaking her head bitterly).  Yes, abuse me—­call me names.

Charteris.  I now assert the right I reserved—­the right of breaking with you when I please.  Advanced views, Julia, involve advanced duties:  you cannot be an advanced woman when you want to bring a man to your feet, and a conventional woman when you want to hold him there against his will.  Advanced people form charming friendships:  conventional people marry.  Marriage suits a good deal of people; and its first duty is fidelity.  Friendship suits some people; and its first duty is unhesitating, uncomplaining acceptance of a notice of a change of feeling from either side.  You chose friendship instead of marriage.  Now do your duty, and accept your notice.