Doug and Christine loved each other. And she, Ursula, was the unwanted third. So again she would make lonely sacrifice. She would run away and leave them to be happy: “But of course he must marry her. And while I’m alive, I’m in the way. I don’t intend to drown myself--I’m not nearly miserable enough.” The only alternative was to give Doug ostensible cause to divorce her. Her reputation must complete the sacrifice. Well--she would do that ... gladly. “It needn’t, it _shan’t_ go beyond--just my reputation.” Ursula’s cheeks, though she was alone while thinking all this out, flamed a vivid scarlet. She could herself be gallant squire in cool defence of Ursula ... her old childish dreams in the room at the Laburnums, brought to action at last. Louis Gregson, it was evident, must be the dummy lover in the classic situation she was evolving with such unclassic differences in her personal point of view. She could manage Louis Gregson. He was commonplace. The obvious man in the case. Nothing need be damaged except his amour propre. And Doug, given the appearance of Ursula’s guilt--all evidence supplied by Ursula--would instruct his solicitors to file a petition; and she would not defend. All this was unimportant and rather lumbering mechanism. It was a pity that the law made it necessary. The reality was the romance of Doug and Christine; pearl in the clumsy oyster. “If I don’t love Doug myself, I’ve no right to lie about and spoil things.” Ursula, sure of this, was able serenely to go on with her plans. Convention again reminded her that when she slipped away and effaced herself, Doug and Christine must not be left unchaperoned at Grey Stone. She could trust Doug to be chivalrous; she could trust Christine to be loyal to chastity. But it was Ursula’s responsibility, impetuously undertaken, to arrange for them a future of clear happiness with no gossip to smudge it. Besides--Christine was the guest in her charge. A whimsical notion occurred to Ursula, solving the problem; and she wrote a charming note to Aunt Lavvy, at the Laburnums, inviting her to Grey Stone for a month’s holiday--“Would next Friday suit you?”