“Very,” said Ursula. “Very peaceful and charming.”
“It has form, too—it has a period.”
“What period?”
“Oh, eighteenth century, for certain; Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, don’t you think?”
Ursula laughed.
“Don’t you think so?” repeated Gudrun.
“Perhaps. But I don’t think the Criches fit the period. I know Gerald is putting in a private electric plant, for lighting the house, and is making all kinds of latest improvements.”
Gudrun shrugged her shoulders swiftly.
“Of course,” she said, “that’s quite inevitable.”
“Quite,” laughed Ursula. “He is several generations of youngness at one go. They hate him for it. He takes them all by the scruff of the neck, and fairly flings them along. He’ll have to die soon, when he’s made every possible improvement, and there will be nothing more to improve. He’s got go, anyhow.”