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But she must move out of the intricately woven illusion of

her life: the illusion of a father whose life was an Odyssey in

an outer world; the illusion of her grandmother, of realities so

shadowy and far-off that they becairls reaths of blue flowers in

their hair, the sledges and the depths of winter; the

dark-bearded young grandfather, e and war and death; then

theherself, how she was truly

a princess of Poland, how in England she was under a spell, she

was not really this Ursula Brangwen; then the : out of the multicoloured illusion of this her life, she

ha, she bit her

nails, and had a cruel consciousness in her finger-tips, a

shame, an exposure Out of all proportion, this sha how she ht say her hands were scalded, if she

oing to inherit her own estate, when she went to

the High School There, each girl was a lady There, she was

going to walk a free souls, her co-s would be put away Ah, if only she did not bite

her nails! If only she had not this blemish! She wanted so h,

noble life

It was a grief to her that her father made such a poor

introduction He was brief as ever, like a boy saying his

errand, and his clothes looked ill-fitting and casual Whereas

Ursula would have liked robes and a ceremonial of introduction