same person. She would wear a band of
turquoise-blue velvet ribbon round her hair and look at the mountains..
.. No good. She could never get out to that. Never. She could not
pretend long enough. Everything would be at an end long before there was
any chance of her turning into a happy German woman.

Certainly with a German man she would be angry at once. She thought of
the men she had seen--in the streets, in cafes and gardens, the masters
in the school, photographs in the girls' albums. They had all offended
her at once. Something in their bearing and manner.... Blind and
impudent.... She thought of the interview she had witnessed between
Ulrica and her cousin--the cousin coming up from the estate in Erfurth,
arriving in a carriage, Fraulein's manner, her smiles and hints; Ulrica
standing in the saal in her sprigged saffron muslin dress curtseying..
. with bent head, the cousin's condescending laughing voice. It would
never do for her to go into a German home. She must not say anything
about the chance of going to the Bergmanns'--even to Eve.

She imagined Eve sitting listening in the window space in the bow that
was carpeted with linoleum to look like parquet flooring. Beyond them
lay the length of the Turkey carpet darkening away under the long
biscuit-box and the large epergne made her feel guilty and shifting,
guilty from the beginning of things.

"You see, Eve, I thought counting it all up that if I came home it would
cost less than going to Norderney and that all the expense of my going
to Germany and coming back is less than what it would have cost to
keep me at home for the five months I've been there--I wish you'd tell
everybody that."

6

She turned about in bed; her head was growing fevered.

She conjured up a vision of the backs of the books in the bookcase in
the dining-room at home.... Iliad and Odyssey... people going over the
sea in boats and someone doing embroidery... that little picture of
Hector and Andromache in the corner of a page... he in armour... she,
in a trailing dress, holding up her baby. Both, silly.... She wished
she had read more carefully. She could not remember anything in Lecky
or Darwin that would tell her what to do... Hudibras... The Atomic
Theory... Ballads and Poems, D. G. Rossetti... Kinglake's Crimea...
Palgrave's Arabia... Crimea.... The Crimea.... Florence Nightingale;
a picture somewhere; a refined face, with cap and strings.... She must
have smiled.... Motle