There was a second’s hush in the room, after Ursula’s blithe vagueness.
“Really, Ursula!” said Gudrun.
“Might we ask why there has been all this secrecy?” demanded the mother, rather superbly.
“But there hasn’t,” said Ursula. “You knew.”
“Who knew?” now cried the father. “Who knew? What do you mean by your ‘you knew’?”
He was in one of his stupid rages, she instantly closed against him.
“Of course you knew,” she said coolly. “You knew we were going to get married.”
There was a dangerous pause.
“We knew you were going to get married, did we? Knew! Why, does anybody know anything about you, you shifty bitch!”
“Father!” cried Gudrun, flushing deep in violent remonstrance. Then, in a cold, but gentle voice, as if to remind her sister to be tractable: “But isn’t it a fearfully sudden decision, Ursula?” she asked.