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.
"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 golden-brown, quick, steady eyes, like a bird's, like a hawk's, which cannot look afraid.
"Your Cousin Will 'll come 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 come 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 flowering 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 highroad. 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.
