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—?”
“Very lovely!” said Gudrun, sarcastically.
Ursula was put out.
“Of course,” she said, “I think Gerald spoke to Rupert so that it shouldn’t seem like an outing with a _type_—”
“I know, of course,” said Gudrun, “that he quite commonly does take up with that sort.”
“Does he!” said Ursula. “Why how do you know?”
“I know of a model in Chelsea,” said Gudrun coldly. Now Ursula was silent. “Well,” she said at last, with a doubtful laugh, “I hope he has a good time with her.”