love — love — what does it mean — what does it amount to? So much personal gratification. It doesn't lead anywhere.”

“It isn't supposed to lead anywhere, is it?” said Dorothy, satirically. “I thought it was the one thing which is an end in itself.”

“Then what does it matter to me?” cried Ursula.

“As an end in itself, I could love a hundred men, one after the other. Why should I end with a Skrebensky? Why should I not go on, and love all the types I fancy, one after another, if love is an end in itself? There are plenty of men who aren't Anton, whom I could love — whom I would like to love.”

“Then you don't love him,” said Dorothy.