Gudrun looked over the rail, and immediately lost her sauntering, diffident air. Her eyes flashed.
“Really—Ursula!” she cried. And she began to move downstairs as Ursula ran up. They met at a turn and kissed with laughter and exclamations inarticulate and stirring.
“But!” cried Gudrun, mortified. “We thought it was tomorrow you were coming! I wanted to come to the station.”
“No, we’ve come today!” cried Ursula. “Isn’t it lovely here!”
“Adorable!” said Gudrun. “Gerald’s just gone out to get something. Ursula, aren’t you fearfully tired?”
“No, not so very. But I look a filthy sight, don’t I!”
“No, you don’t. You look almost perfectly fresh. I like that fur cap immensely!” She glanced over Ursula, who wore a big soft coat with a collar of deep, soft, blond fur, and a soft blond cap of fur.
“And you!” cried Ursula. “What do you think you look like!”
Gudrun assumed an unconcerned, expressionless face.
“Do you like it?” she said.