Everything seemed to be thrown into the melting pot, and it seemed to Ursula they were all witches, helping the pot to bubble.

There was an elation and a satisfaction in it all, but it was cruelly exhausting for the new-comers, this ruthless mental pressure, this powerful, consuming, destructive mentality that emanated from Joshua and Hermione and Birkin and dominated the rest.
But a sickness, a fearful nausea gathered possession of Hermione.

There was a lull in the talk, as it was arrested by her unconscious but all-powerful will.
'Salsie, won't you play something ?' said Hermione, breaking off completely.

'Won't somebody dance?
Gudrun, you will dance, won't you?
I wish you would.

Anche tu, Palestra, ballerai ?--si, per piacere.