“Giving up your room. Look here, Ursula, squarely, between you and me, you must have meant to get something out of it. What?” Ursula understood that if she disclaimed all hidden purpose of a benefit in the matter, there would be no other name for her than a prig, from the viewpoint of her sister and brothers. Simple nobility was indeed a completely priggish quality. Ursula felt ashamed. Even Bunny would censure her for it, in his soul. Even Hal, whom she had rescued.... “Well, d’you suppose I was just ‘being good’ for its own sake?” scoffed Ursula, thereby thoroughly deserving to be termed traitor. Nina nodded, placated. “Tell me, though?” “It’s my business.” “Something from Aunt Lavvy? From Dad? From Hal?” Tiny green imps twinkled for a second in Ursula’s eyes.... Already Nina was mentioning Hal’s name with some of the old reverence. Already Nina was arrogant.... Ursula had not been to school herself, but she had learnt enough from her brothers and sisters not to remind Nina of hysterics, though not enough to refrain from regret that decency should forbid such gentle reminder. “Don’t be a nuisance, Nina. I’ll say what I like, and shut up when I like.” “You needn’t think you can be as cheeky as you like, though, in this room. It was mine before you came to share it, so in a way I’ve given up as much as you.” Ursula turned, not an indignant scarlet as Nina expected, but white. Nina?--why, Nina had never cared about her room except to sleep in it, never minded how many visitors at the Laburnums overlapped her return home from her own visits, was quite content to have the shrine spoken of as the “spare-room” during her absence. Nina never fled to her room during trouble, she’d be just as content if her hockey group photographs and silver cups had their place anywhere else in the house. Oh, Ursula was sure--surer than sure--that the strange listening _growing_ feeling never happened to Nina in solitude. And now Nina was claiming an equal part in the sacrifice.... Put in that desperately reasonable way, it certainly had the appearance of being a half-and-half affair, but--would it truly look like that to--to whoever attended to haphazard sacrifices which came drifting up from the world? Might Ursula not even say to herself that she, and no one else, responsible by seeing Hal in his lordliness, was also responsible for keeping him so? For there was no damage done that would not be covered by the new skin even now growing thickly over his rawness. Nina, with a last sturdy backward brush at her gleaming hair, swung to the door, ready for breakfast. She was careless and spruce and clear-cut as ever. Ursula remembered the days when she had worshipped her for these effects.