world of absolute truth and living mystery, of
walking upon the waters and being blinded by the face of the
Lord, of following the pillar of cloud across the desert and
watching the bush that crackled yet did not burn away, this old,
unquestioned duality suddenly was found to be broken apart. The
weekday world had triumphed over the Sunday world. The Sunday
world was not real, or at least, not actual. And one lived by
action.

Only the weekday world mattered. She herself, Ursula
Brangwen, must know how to take the weekday life. Her body must
be a weekday body, held in the world's estimate. Her soul must
have a weekday value, known according to the world's
knowledge.

Well, then, there was a weekday life to live, of action and
deeds. And so there was a necessity to choose one's action and
one's deeds. One was responsible to the world for what one
did.

Nay, one was more than responsible to the world. One was
responsible to oneself. There was some puzzling, tormenting
residue of the Sunday world within her, some persistent Sunday
self, which insisted upon a relationship with the now shed-away
vision world. How could one keep up a relationship with that
which one denied? Her task was now to learn the week-day
life.

How to act, that was the question? Whither to go, how to
become oneself? One was not oneself, one was merely a
half-stated question. How to become oneself, how to know the
question and the answer of oneself, when one was merely an
unfixed something--nothing, blowing about like the winds of
heaven, undefined, unstated.

She turned to the visions, which had spoken far-off words
that ran along the blood like ripples of an unseen wind, she
heard the words again, she denied the vision, for she must be a
weekday person, to whom visions were not true, and she demanded
only the weekday meaning of the words.

There were words spoken by the vision: and words must
have a weekday meaning, since words were weekday stuff. Let them
speak now: let them bespeak themselves in weekday terms. The
vision should translate itself into weekday terms.

"Sell all thou hast, and give to the poor," she heard on
Sunday morning. That was plain enough, plain enough for Monday
morning too. As she went down the hill to the station, going to
school, she took the saying with her.

"Sell all thou hast, and give to the poor."

Did she want to do that? Did she want to sell her
pearl-backed brush and mirror, her silver candlestick,