Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen sat one morning in the window-bay of their father’s house in Beldover, working and talking. Ursula was stitching a piece of brightly-coloured embroidery, and Gudrun was drawing upon a board which she held on her knee. They were mostly silent, talking as their thoughts strayed through their minds.
‘Ursula, ‘ said Gudrun, ‘don’t you REALLY WANT to get married?’ Ursula laid her embroidery in her lap and looked up. Her face was calm and considerate.
‘I don’t know, ‘ she replied. ‘It depends how you mean.’
Gudrun was slightly taken aback. She watched her sister for some moments.
‘Well, ‘ she said, ironically, ‘it usually means one thing! But don’t you think anyhow, you’d be-‘ she darkened slightly-‘in a better position than you are in now.’
A shadow came over Ursula’s face.
‘I might, ‘ she said. ‘But I’m not sure.’
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