lived vividly； swift and intense。 She always thought of him with
that black； keen； blind head。 And she considered him odd。
He appeared at the Marsh one Sunday morning： a rather long；
thin youth with a bright face and a curious selfpossession
among his shyness； a native unawareness of what other people
might be； since he was himself。
When Anna came downstairs in her Sunday clothes； ready for
church； he rose and greeted her conventionally； shaking hands。
His manners were better than hers。 She flushed。 She noticed that
he now had a thick fledge on his upper lip； a black；
finelyshapen line marking his wide mouth。 It rather repelled
her。 It reminded her of the thin； fine fur of his hair。 She was
aware of something strange in him。
His voice had rather high upper notes； and very resonant
middle notes。 It was queer。 She wondered why he did it。 But he
sat very naturally in the Marsh livingroom。 He had some
uncouthness； some natural selfpossession of the Brangwens； that
made him at home there。
Anna was rather troubled by the strangely intimate；
affectionate way her father had towards this young man。 He
seemed gentle towards him； he put himself aside in order to fill
out the young man。 This irritated Anna。
〃Father；〃 she said abruptly； 〃give me some collection。〃
〃What collection？〃 asked Brangwen。
〃Don't be ridiculous；〃 she cried； flushing。
〃Nay；〃 he said； 〃what collection's this？〃
〃You know it's the first Sunday of the month。〃
Anna stood confused。 Why was he doing this； why was he making
her conspicuous before this stranger？
〃I want some collection；〃 she reasserted。
〃So tha says；〃 he replied indifferently； looking at her； then
turning again to this nephew。
She went forward； and thrust her hand into his breeches
pocket。 He smoked steadily； making no resistance； talking to his
nephew。 Her hand groped about in his pocket； and then drew out
his leathern purse。 Her colour was bright in her clear cheeks；
her eyes shone。 Brangwen's eyes were twinkling。 The nephew sat
sheepishly。 Anna； in her finery； sat down and slid all the money
into her lap。 There was silver and gold。 The youth could not
help watching her。 She was bent over the heap of money；
fingering the different coins。
〃I've a good mind to take half a sovereign；〃 she said； and
she looked up with glowing dark eyes。 She met the lightbrown
eyes of her cousin； close and intent upon her。 She was startled。
She laughed quickly； and turned to her father。
〃I've a good mind to take half a sovereign； our Dad；〃 she
said。
〃Yes； nimble fingers；〃 said her father。 〃You take what's your
own。〃
〃Are you ing； our Anna？〃 asked her brother from the
door。
She suddenly chilled to normal； fetting both her father
and her cousin。
〃Yes； I'm ready；〃 she said； taking sixpence from the heap of
money and sliding the rest back into the purse； which she laid
on the table。
〃Give it here；〃 said her father。
Hastily she thrust the purse into his pocket and was going
out。
〃You'd better go wi' 'em； lad； hadn't you？〃 said the father
to the nephew。
Will Brangwen rose uncertainly。 He had goldenbrown； quick；
steady eyes； like a bird's； like a hawk's； which cannot look
afraid。
〃Your Cousin Will 'll e with you；〃 said the father。
Anna glanced at the strange youth again。 She felt him waiting
there for her to notice him。 He was hovering on the edge of her
consciousness； ready to e in。 She did not want to look at
him。 She was antagonistic to him。
She waited without speaking。 Her cousin took his hat and
joined her。 It was summer outside。 Her brother Fred was plucking
a sprig of flowery currant to put in his coat； from the bush at
the angle of the house。 She took no notice。 Her cousin followed
just behind her。
They were on the high road。 She was aware of a strangeness in
her being。 It made her uncertain。 She caught sight of the
flowering currant in her brother's buttonhole。
〃Oh； our Fred；〃 she cried。 〃Don't wear that stuff to go to
church。〃
Fred looked down protectively at the pink adornment on his
breast。
〃Why； I like it；〃 he said。
〃Then you're the only one who does； I'm sure；〃 she said。
And she turned to her cousin。
〃Do you like the smell of it？〃 she asked。
He was there beside her； tall and uncouth and yet
selfpossessed。 It excited her。
〃I can't say whether I do or not；〃 he replied。
〃Give it here； Fred； don't have it smelling in church；〃 she
said to the little boy； her page。
Her fair； small brother handed her the flower dutifully。 She
sniffed it and gave it without a word to her cousin； for his
judgment。 He smelled the dangling flower curiously。
〃It's a funny smell；〃 he said。
And suddenly she laughed； and a quick light came on all their
faces； there was a blithe trip in the small boy's walk。
The bells were ringing； they were going up the summery hill
in their Sunday clothes。 Anna was very fine in a silk frock of
brown and white stripes； tight along the arms and the body；
bunched up very elegantly behind the skirt。 There was something
of the cavalier about Will Brangwen； and he was well
dressed。
He walked along with the sprig of currantblossom dangling
between his fingers； and none of them spoke。 The sun shone
brightly on little showers of buttercup down the bank； in the
fields the fool'sparsley was foamy； held very high and proud
above a number of flowers that flitted in the greenish twilight
of the mowinggrass below。
They reached the church。 Fred led the way to the pew；
followed by the cousin； then Anna。 She felt very conspicuous and
important。 Somehow； this young man gave her away to other
people。 He stood aside and let her pass to her place； then sat
next to her。 It was a curious sensation； to sit next to him。
The colour came streaming from the painted window above her。
It lit on the dark wood of the pew； on the stone； worn aisle； on
the pillar behind her cousin； and on her cousin's hands； as they
lay on his knees。 She sat amid illumination； illumination and
luminous shadow all around her； her soul very bright。 She sat；
without knowing it； conscious of the hands and motionless knees
of her cousin。 Something strange had entered into her world；
something entirely strange and unlike what she knew。
She was curiously elated。 She sat in a glowing world of
unreality； very delightful。 A brooding light； like laughter； was
in her eyes。 She was aware of a strange influence entering in to
her； which she enjoyed。 It was a dark enrichening influence she
had not known before。 She did not think of her cousin。 But she
was startled when his hands moved。
She wished he would not say the responses so plainly。 It
diverted her from her vague enjoyment。 Why would he obtrude； and
draw notice to himself？ It was bad taste。 But she went on all
right till the hymn came。 He stood up beside her to sing； and
that pleased her。 Then suddenly； at the very first word； his
voice came strong and overriding； filling the church。 He was
singing the tenor。 Her soul opened in amazement。 His voice
filled the church！ It rang out like a trumpet； and rang out
again。 She started to giggle over her hymnbook。 But he went on；
perfectly steady。 Up and down rang his voice； going its own way。
She was helplessly shocked into laughter。 Between moments of
dead silence in herself she shook with laughter。 On came the
laughter； seized her and shook her till the tears were in her
eyes。 She was amazed； and rather enjoyed it。 And still the hymn
rolled on； and still she laughed。 She bent over her hymnbook
crimson with confusion； but still her sides shook with laughter。
She pretended to cough； she pretended to have a crumb in her
throat。 Fred was gazing up at her with clear blue eyes。 She was
recovering herself。 And then a slur in the strong； blind voice
at her side brought it all on again； in a gust of mad
laughter。
She bent down to prayer in cold reproof of herself。 And yet；
as she knelt； little eddies of giggling went over her。 The very
sight of his knees on the praying cushion sent the little shock
of laughter over her。
She gathered herself together and sat with prim； pure face；
white and pink and cold as a Christmas rose； her hands in her
silk gloves folded on her lap； her dark eyes all vague；
abstracted in a sort of dream； oblivious of everything。
The sermon rolled on vaguely； in a tide of pregnant
peace。
Her cousin took out his pockethandkerchief。 He seemed to be
drifted absorbed into the sermon。 He put his handkerchief to his
face。 Then something dropped on to his knee。 There lay the bit
of flowering currant！ He was looking down at it in real
astonishment。 A wild snort of laughter came from Anna。 Everybody
heard： it was torture。 He had shut the crumpled flower in his
hand and was looking up again with the same absorbed attention
to the sermon。 Another snort of laughter from Anna。 Fred nudged
her remindingly。
Her cousin sat motionless。 Somehow he was aware that his face
was red。 She could feel him。 His hand； closed over the flower；
remained quite still； pretending to be normal。 Another wild
struggle in Anna's breast； and the snort of laughter。 She bent
forward shaking with laughter。 It was now no joke。 Fred was
nudgenudging at her。 She nudged him back fiercely。 Then another
vicious spasm of laughter seized her。 She tried to ward it off
in a little cough。 The cough ended in a suppressed whoop。 She
wanted to die。 And the closed hand crept away to the pocket。
Whilst she sat in taut suspense； the laughter rushed back at
her； knowing he was fumbling in his pocket to shove the flower
away。
In the end； she felt weak； exhausted and thoroughly
depressed。 A blankness of wincing depression came over her。 She
hated the presence of the other people。 Her face became quite
haughty。 She was unaware of her cousin any more。
When the collection arrived with the last hymn； her cousin
was again singing resoundingly。 And still it amused her。 In
spite of the shameful exhibition she had made of herself； it
amused her still。 She listened to it in a spell of amusement。
And the bag was thrust in front of her； and her sixpence was
mingled in the folds of her glove。 In her haste to get it out；
it flipped away and went twinkling in the next pew。 She