--quite as much, and perhaps more than
I should love any of the others. Only there are plenty of things
that aren't in Anton that I would love in the other men."

"What, for instance?"

"It doesn't matter. But a sort of strong understanding, in
some men, and then a dignity, a directness, something
unquestioned that there is in working men, and then a jolly,
reckless passionateness that you see--a man who could
really let go----"

Dorothy could feel that Ursula was already hankering after
something else, something that this man did not give her.

"The question is, what do you want," propounded
Dorothy. "Is it just other men?"

Ursula was silenced. This was her own dread. Was she just
promiscuous?

"Because if it is," continued Dorothy, "you'd better marry
Anton. The other can only end badly."

So out of fear of herself Ursula was to marry Skrebensky.

He was very busy now, preparing to go to India. He must visit
relatives and contract business. He was almost sure of Ursula
now. She seemed to have given in. And he seemed to become again
an important, self-assured man.

It was the first week in August, and he was one of a large
party in a bungalow on the Lincolnshire coast. It was a tennis,
golf, motor-car, motor-boat party, given by his great-aunt, a
lady of social pretensions. Ursula was invited to spend the week
with the party.

She went rather reluctantly. Her marriage was more or less
fixed for the twenty-eighth of the month. They were to sail for
India on September the fifth. One thing she knew, in her
subconsciousness, and that was, she would never sail for
India.

She and Anton, being important guests on account of the
coming marriage, had rooms in the large bungalow. It was a big
place, with a great central hall, two smaller writing-rooms, and
then two corridors from which opened eight or nine bedrooms.
Skrebensky was put on one corridor, Ursula on the other. They
felt very lost, in the crowd.

Being lovers, however, they were allowed to be out alone
together as much as they liked. Yet she felt very strange, in
this crowd of strange people, uneasy, as if she had no privacy.
She was not used to these homogeneous crowds. She was
afraid.

She felt different from the rest of them, with their hard,
easy, shallow intimacy, that seemed to cost them so little. She
felt she was not pronounced enough. It was a kind of
hold-your-own unconventional atmosphere.

She did not like it. In crowds, in assemb