."

"Yes," said Ursula, vehemently, the look of suffering, almost
of fanaticism, on her face. "Passion is only part of love. And
it seems so much because it can't last. That is why passion is
never happy."

She was staunch for joy, for happiness, and permanency, in
contrast with Maggie, who was for sadness, and the inevitable
passing-away of things. Ursula suffered bitterly at the hands of
life, Maggie was always single, always withheld, so she went in
a heavy brooding sadness that was almost meat to her. In
Ursula's last winter at St. Philip's the friendship of the two
girls came to a climax. It was during this winter that Ursula
suffered and enjoyed most keenly Maggie's fundamental sadness of
enclosedness. Maggie enjoyed and suffered Ursula's struggles
against the confines of her life. And then the two girls began
to drift apart, as Ursula broke from that form of life wherein
Maggie must remain enclosed.

CHAPTER XIV

THE WIDENING CIRCLE

Maggie's people, the Schofields, lived in the large
gardener's cottage, that was half a farm, behind Belcote Hall.
The hall was too damp to live in, so the Schofields were
caretakers, gamekeepers, farmers, all in one. The father was
gamekeeper and stock-breeder, the eldest son was
market-gardener, using the big hall gardens, the second son was
farmer and gardener. There was a large family, as at
Cossethay.

Ursula loved to stay at Belcote, to be treated as a grand
lady by Maggie's brothers. They were good-looking men. The
eldest was twenty-six years old. He was the gardener, a man not
very tall, but strong and well made, with brown, sunny, easy
eyes and a face handsomely hewn, brown, with a long fair
moustache which he pulled as he talked to Ursula.

The girl was excited because these men attended to her when
she came near. She could make their eyes light up and quiver,
she could make Anthony, the eldest, twist and twist his
moustache. She knew she could move them almost at will with her
light laughter and chatter. They loved her ideas, watched her as
she talked vehemently about politics or economics. And she,
while she talked, saw the golden-brown eyes of Anthony gleam
like the eyes of a satyr as they watched her. He did not listen
to her words, he listened to her. It excited her.

He was like a faun pleased when she would go with him over
his hothouses, to look at the green and pretty plants, at the
pink primulas nodding among their leaves, and cinarrias
flaunti