ched a big wave running
unnoticed, to burst in a shock of foam against a rock,
enveloping all in a great white beauty, to pour away again,
leaving the rock emerged black and teeming. Oh, and if, when the
wave burst into whiteness, it were only set free!

Sometimes she loitered along the harbour, looking at the
sea-browned sailors, who, in their close blue jerseys, lounged
on the harbour-wall, and laughed at her with impudent,
communicative eyes.

There was established a little relation between her and them.
She never would speak to them or know any more of them. Yet as
she walked by and they leaned on the sea-wall, there was
something between her and them, something keen and delightful
and painful. She liked best the young one whose fair, salty hair
tumbled over his blue eyes. He was so new and fresh and salt and
not of this world.

From Scarborough she went to her Uncle Tom's. Winifred had a
small baby, born at the end of the summer. She had become
strange and alien to Ursula. There was an unmentionable reserve
between the two women. Tom Brangwen was an attentive father, a
very domestic husband. But there was something spurious about
his domesticity, Ursula did not like him any more. Something
ugly, blatant in his nature had come out now, making him shift
everything over to a sentimental basis. A materialistic
unbeliever, he carried it all off by becoming full of human
feeling, a warm, attentive host, a generous husband, a model
citizen. And he was clever enough to rouse admiration
everywhere, and to take in his wife sufficiently. She did not
love him. She was glad to live in a state of complacent
self-deception with him, she worked according to him.

Ursula was relieved to go home. She had still two peaceful
years before her. Her future was settled for two years. She
returned to college to prepare for her final examination.

But during this year the glamour began to depart from
college. The professors were not priests initiated into the deep
mysteries of life and knowledge. After all, they were only
middle-men handling wares they had become so accustomed to that
they were oblivious of them. What was Latin?--So much dry
goods of knowledge. What was the Latin class altogether but a
sort of second-hand curio shop, where one bought curios and
learned the market-value of curios; dull curios too, on the
whole. She was as bored by the Latin curiosities as she was by
Chinese and Japanese curiosities in the antique s