session
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 nor