MR. FENNIMORE came that evening to the Laburnums, and Mr. Fennimore went. Aunt Lavvy did not betray Hal to him, though the Maxwells were taut with apprehension from minute to minute. After he had gone, Ursula privately informed her mother that she was henceforth going to share Nina’s bedroom, and that Aunt Lavvy, in consideration of the gift of an adjoining sitting-room to her present apartment, would gloss the matter over with the Bank tomorrow. “So Hal’s all right, and I’m moving my things over so’s to sleep with Nina tonight.” “But, darling,” exclaimed Mrs. Maxwell, almost weeping with relief, “won’t it do in the morning?” “No, _tonight_,” insisted Ursula, who had passed from the ageless wisdom of Medea, to a stage of crude and intensely youthful heroics, when it seemed urgent that her sacrifice should begin immediately, without the anti-climax of postponement. Because, beyond surrender of the room, and beyond suffering, lay that diffusion of gold over a grey world which was to be her recognition from the gods. She knew that “Virtue is its own reward,” must not be taken materially, in the sense that an automatic machine promptly doles out chocolate on insertion of a penny--(bent or battered coins not accepted); but--oh, surely she might count on _something_ happening! “People would be different” ... and she, too, would be different, conscious of a deepening of colour, a more vivid meaning, scents sharper and sweeter, all sounds harmonized, everywhere a lightness and a quickening up, less drag and shuffle, the same clean happy intoxication of spirit that can usually be won by actual high speed ... by gallop on horseback over soft turf, or two-reefed sailing, or a race in one of those long lean cars that crouch low to the road. In fact, Ursula’s modest expectation demanded, in return for one room delivered, to dwell henceforth and continually in that state of jubilant ecstasy which may have come to our one or two really great poets for two or three minutes on completion of their three or four most perfect lines. She moved into Nina’s room that night. Nina helped her carry her things. And Mrs. Maxwell went to Mr. Maxwell--whom she found in his study, having a distinct row with his only son-in-law--and told him it was all right about Hal. And Stanley told Grace, who told Miss Roberts, who woke up Lottie to tell her. And Mr. Maxwell told Bunny, who told Hal. And everybody at the Laburnums slept better that night, because of the news, except William, who had remained asleep and slept well in spite of it. The next day, the effect of Ursula’s act on the household was like a window flung open on to an enclosure where there had been a gas-escape. Gradually the fumes noticed the window and crept out and were dissipated.