He appeared at the Marsh one Sunday morning: a rather long,

thin youth with a bright face and a curious self-possession

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,

finely-shapen 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 living-room. He had some

uncouthness, some natural self-possession 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 light-brown

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 coming, our Anna?" asked her brother from the

door.

She suddenly chilled to normal, forgetting 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.




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