Flitting

That evening Ursula returned home very bright-eyed and wondrous--which
irritated her people. Her father came home at suppertime, tired after
the evening class, and the long journey home. Gudrun was reading, the
mother sat in silence.

Suddenly Ursula said to the company at large, in a bright voice,
'Rupert and I are going to be married tomorrow.' Her father turned round, stiffly.

'You what?' he said.

'Tomorrow!' echoed Gudrun.

'Indeed!' said the mother.

But Ursula only smiled wonderfully, and did not reply.

'Married tomorrow!' cried her father harshly. 'What are you talking
about.' 'Yes,' said Ursula. 'Why not?' Those two words, from her, always drove
him mad. 'Everything is all right--we shall go to the registrar's
office-' There was a second's hush in the room, after Ursula's blithe vagueness.

'REALLY, Ursula!' said Gudrun.

'Might we ask why there has been all this secrecy?' demanded the
mother, rather superbly.

'But there hasn't,' said Ursula. 'You knew.' 'Who knew?' now cried the father. 'Who knew? What do you mean by your
"you knew"?' He was in one of his stupid rages, she instantly closed against him.

'Of course you knew,' she said coolly. 'You knew we were going to get
married.' There was a dangerous pause.

'We knew you were going to get married, did we? Knew! Why, does anybody
know anything about you, you shifty bitch!' 'Father!' cried Gudrun, flushing deep in violent remonstrance. Then, in
a cold, but gentle voice, as if to remind her sister to be tractable:
'But isn't it a FEARFULLY sudden decision, Ursula?' she asked.