Flitting

'No, not really,' replied Ursula, with the same maddening cheerfulness.
'He's been WANTING me to agree for weeks--he's had the licence ready.
Only I--I wasn't ready in myself. Now I am ready--is there anything to
be disagreeable about?' 'Certainly not,' said Gudrun, but in a tone of cold reproof. 'You are
perfectly free to do as you like.' '"Ready in yourself"--YOURSELF, that's all that matters, isn't it! "I
wasn't ready in myself,"' he mimicked her phrase offensively. 'You and
YOURSELF, you're of some importance, aren't you?' She drew herself up and set back her throat, her eyes shining yellow
and dangerous.

'I am to myself,' she said, wounded and mortified. 'I know I am not to
anybody else. You only wanted to BULLY me--you never cared for my
happiness.' He was leaning forward watching her, his face intense like a spark.

'Ursula, what are you saying? Keep your tongue still,' cried her
mother.

Ursula swung round, and the lights in her eyes flashed.

'No, I won't,' she cried. 'I won't hold my tongue and be bullied. What
does it matter which day I get married--what does it MATTER! It doesn't
affect anybody but myself.' Her father was tense and gathered together like a cat about to spring.

'Doesn't it?' he cried, coming nearer to her. She shrank away.

'No, how can it?' she replied, shrinking but stubborn.