But she was separate from
him. She remained apart, in a kind of brightness. They both sat silent
in the soft light of the lamp. He felt he ought to go away again, he
ought not to have come. Still he did not gather enough resolution to
move. But he was DE TROP, her mood was absent and separate.
Then there came the voices of the two children calling shyly outside
the door, softly, with self-excited timidity:
'Ursula! Ursula!'
She rose and opened the door. On the threshold stood the two children
in their long nightgowns, with wide-eyed, angelic faces. They were
being very good for the moment, playing the role perfectly of two
obedient children.
'Shall you take us to bed!' said Billy, in a loud whisper.
'Why you ARE angels tonight,' she said softly. 'Won't you come and say
good-night to Mr Birkin?'
The children merged shyly into the room, on bare feet. Billy's face was
wide and grinning, but there was a great solemnity of being good in his
round blue eyes. Dora, peeping from the floss of her fair hair, hung
back like some tiny Dryad, that has no soul.
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