“But do you think even brothers have any right to exchange confidences of that sort?” she asked, with deep anger.
“Oh yes,” said Ursula. “There’s never anything said that isn’t perfectly straightforward. No, the thing that’s amazed me most in Gerald—how perfectly simple and direct he can be! And you know, it takes rather a big man. Most of them must be indirect, they are such cowards.”
But Gudrun was still silent with anger. She wanted the absolute secrecy kept, with regard to her movements.
“Won’t you go?” said Ursula. “Do, we might all be so happy! There is something I love about Gerald—he’s much more lovable than I thought him. He’s free, Gudrun, he really is.”
Gudrun’s mouth was still closed, sullen and ugly. She opened it at length.
“Do you know where he proposes to go?” she asked.
“Yes—to the Tyrol, where he used to go when he was in Germany—a lovely place where students go, small and rough and lovely, for winter sport!”
Through Gudrun’s mind went the angry thought—“they know everything.”
“Yes,” she said aloud, “about forty kilometres from Innsbruck, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know exactly where—but it would be lovely, don’t you think, high in the perfect snow—?”