worn, and condemned
to the reiteration of mysteries that were not divine to her. Yet there
was no escape. She was a leaf upon a dying tree. What help was there
then, but to fight still for the old, withered truths, to die for the
old, outworn belief, to be a sacred and inviolate priestess of
desecrated mysteries? The old great truths BAD been true. And she was a
leaf of the old great tree of knowledge that was withering now. To the
old and last truth then she must be faithful even though cynicism and
mockery took place at the bottom of her soul.

'I am so glad to see you,' she said to Ursula, in her slow voice, that
was like an incantation. 'You and Rupert have become quite friends?'

'Oh yes,' said Ursula. 'He is always somewhere in the background.'

Hermione paused before she answered. She saw perfectly well the other
woman's vaunt: it seemed truly vulgar.

'Is he?' she said slowly, and with perfect equanimity. 'And do you
think you will marry?'

The question was so calm and mild, so simple and bare and dispassionate
that Ursula was somewhat taken aback, rather attracted. It pleased her
almost like a wickedness. There was some delightful naked irony in
Hermione.

'Well,' replied Ursula, 'HE wants to, awfully, but I'm not so sure.'

Hermione watched her with slow calm eyes. She noted this new expression
of vaunting. How she envied Ursula a certain unconscious positivity!
even her vulgarity!

'Why aren't you sure?' she asked, in her easy sing song. She was
perfectly at her ease, perhaps even rather happy in this conversation.
'You don't really love him?'

Ursula flushed a little at the mild impertinence of this question. And
yet she could not definitely take offence. Hermione seemed so calmly
and sanely candid. After all, it was rather great to be able to be so
sane.

'He says it isn't love he wants,' she replied.

'What is it then?' Hermione was slow and level.

'He wants me really to accept him in marriage.'

Hermione was silent for some time, watching Ursula with slow, pensive
eyes.

'Does he?' she said at length, without expression. Then, rousing, 'And
what is it you don't want? You don't want marriage?'

'No--I don't--not really. I don't want to give the sort of SUBMISSION
he insists on. He wants me to give myself up--and I simply don't feel
that I CAN do it.'

Again there was a long pause, before Hermione replied:

'Not if you don't want to.' Then again there was silence. Hermione
shuddered