Ursula recovered, her hand was on the door handle.
She slowly drew herself up. He seemed doubtful now.
'It's true,' she declared, with brilliant tears in her eyes, her head
lifted up in defiance. 'What has your love meant, what did it ever
mean?--bullying, and denial-it did-'
He was advancing again with strange, tense movements, and clenched
fist, and the face of a murderer. But swift as lightning she had
flashed out of the door, and they heard her running upstairs.
He stood for a moment looking at the door. Then, like a defeated
animal, he turned and went back to his seat by the fire.
Gudrun was very white. Out of the intense silence, the mother's voice
was heard saying, cold and angry:
'Well, you shouldn't take so much notice of her.'
Again the silence fell, each followed a separate set of emotions and
thoughts.
Suddenly the door opened again: Ursula, dressed in hat and furs, with a
small valise in her hand:
'Good-bye!' she said, in her maddening, bright, almost mocking tone.
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