She started with _surprise_.
"What do you want here ?" said she.
"To speak to you." "How dare you speak to me after your vile suspicions ?" "Well, but, Julia--" "How dare you call me Julia ?" "Well, Miss Clifford, won't you even hear me ?" "Not a word.

It's through you poor dear Mary and I have both been insulted by that wretch of a father of hers." "Which father ?" "I said wretch.

To whom does that term apply except to Mr.Bartley, and" (with sudden vigor) "to you." "Then you think I am as bad as old Bartley," said Percy, firing up.
"No, I don't." "Ah," said Percy, glad to find there was a limit.
But Julia explained: "I think you are a great deal worse.

You pretend to love me, and yet without the slightest reason you doubt me." "What did I doubt?
I thought you had parted with my bracelet to another person, and so you had.

I never doubted your honor." "Oh yes, you did; I saw your face." "I am not r--r--responsible for my face." "Yes, you are; you had no business to look broken-hearted, and miserable, and distrustful, and abominable.