st he came when it was raining. He came in
with his jacket collar turned up, his jacket buttoned close, his
face wet. And he looked so slim and definite, coming out of the
chill rain, she was suddenly blinded with love for him. Yet he
sat and talked with her father and mother, meaninglessly, whilst
her blood seethed to anguish in her. She wanted to touch him
now, only to touch him.

There was the queer, abstract look on her silvery radiant
face that maddened her father, her dark eyes were hidden. But
she raised them to the youth. And they were dark with a flare
that made him quail for a moment.

She went into the second kitchen and took a lantern. Her
father watched her as she returned.

"Come with me, Will," she said to her cousin. "I want to see
if I put the brick over where that rat comes in."

"You've no need to do that," retorted her father. She took no
notice. The youth was between the two wills. The colour mounted
into the father's face, his blue eyes stared. The girl stood
near the door, her head held slightly back, like an indication
that the youth must come. He rose, in his silent, intent way,
and was gone with her. The blood swelled in Brangwen's forehead
veins.

It was raining. The light of the lantern flashed on the
cobbled path and the bottom of the wall. She came to a small
ladder, and climbed up. He reached her the lantern, and
followed. Up there in the fowl-loft, the birds sat in fat
bunches on the perches, the red combs shining like fire. Bright,
sharp eyes opened. There was a sharp crawk of expostulation as
one of the hens shifted over. The cock sat watching, his yellow
neck-feathers bright as glass. Anna went across the dirty floor.
Brangwen crouched in the loft watching. The light was soft under
the red, naked tiles. The girl crouched in a corner. There was
another explosive bustle of a hen springing from her perch.

Anna came back, stooping under the perches. He was waiting
for her near the door. Suddenly she had her arms round him, was
clinging close to him, cleaving her body against his, and
crying, in a whispering, whimpering sound.

"Will, I love you, I love you, Will, I love you." It sounded
as if it were tearing her.

He was not even very much surprised. He held her in his arms,
and his bones melted. He leaned back against the wall. The door
of the loft was open. Outside, the rain slanted by in fine,
steely, mysterious haste, emerging out of the gulf of darkness.
He held her in