Ursula was silenced. This was her own dread. Was she just promiscuous?

“Because if it is,” continued Dorothy, “you'd better marry Anton. The other can only end badly.”

So out of fear of herself Ursula was to marry Skrebensky.

He was very busy now, preparing to go to India. He must visit relatives and contract business. He was almost sure of Ursula now. She seemed to have given in. And he seemed to become again an important, self-assured man.

It was the first week in August, and he was one of a large party in a bungalow on the Lincolnshire coast.

It was a tennis, golf, motor-car, motor-boat party, given by his great-aunt, a lady of social pretensions.