ring state of
unrealization. Ursula told nobody; she was entirely lost in her
own world.

Yet some strange affectation made her seek for a spurious
confidence. She had at school a quiet, meditative,
serious-souled friend called Ethel, and to Ethel must Ursula
confide the story. Ethel listened absorbedly, with bowed,
unbetraying head, whilst Ursula told her secret. Oh, it was so
lovely, his gentle, delicate way of making love! Ursula talked
like a practiced lover.

"Do you think," asked Ursula, "it is wicked to let a man kiss
you--real kisses, not flirting?"

"I should think," said Ethel, "it depends."

"He kissed me under the ash trees on Cossethay hill--do
you think it was wrong?"

"When?"

"On Thursday night when he was seeing me home--but real
kisses--real--. He is an officer in the army."

"What time was it?" asked the deliberate Ethel.

"I don't know--about half-past nine."

There was a pause.

"I think it's wrong," said Ethel, lifting her head with
impatience. "You don't know him."

She spoke with some contempt.

"Yes, I do. He is half a Pole, and a Baron too. In England he
is equivalent to a Lord. My grandmother was his father's
friend."

But the two friends were hostile. It was as if Ursula
wanted to divide herself from her acquaintances, in
asserting her connection with Anton, as she now called him.

He came a good deal to Cossethay, because her mother was fond
of him. Anna Brangwen became something of a grande dame
with Skrebensky, very calm, taking things for granted.

"Aren't the children in bed?" cried Ursula petulantly, as she
came in with the young man.

"They will be in bed in half an hour," said the mother.

"There is no peace," cried Ursula.

"The children must live, Ursula," said her mother.

And Skrebensky was against Ursula in this. Why should she be
so insistent?

But then, as Ursula knew, he did not have the perpetual
tyranny of young children about him. He treated her mother with
great courtliness, to which Mrs. Brangwen returned an easy,
friendly hospitality. Something pleased the girl in her mother's
calm assumption of state. It seemed impossible to abate Mrs.
Brangwen's position. She could never be beneath anyone in public
relation. Between Brangwen and Skrebensky there was an
unbridgeable silence. Sometimes the two men made a slight
conversation, but there was no interchange. Ursula rejoiced to
see her father retreating into himself against the young
man.

S