what to say。
〃I thought I might look in；〃 he said； 〃knowing you were
friends of my brother's。 I had to e to Wirksworth。〃
She saw at once that he was a Brangwen。
〃Will you e in？〃 she said。 〃My father is lying down。〃
She took him into a drawing…room； full of books； with a piano
and a violin…stand。 And they talked； she simply and easily。 She
was full of dignity。 The room was of a kind Brangwen had never
known； the atmosphere seemed open and spacious； like a
mountain…top to him。
〃Does my brother like reading？〃 he asked。
〃Some things。 He has been reading Herbert Spencer。 And we
read Browning sometimes。〃
Brangwen was full of admiration； deep thrilling； almost
reverential admiration。 He looked at her with lit…up eyes when
she said； 〃we read〃。 At last he burst out； looking round the
room：
〃I didn't know our Alfred was this way inclined。〃
〃He is quite an unusual man。〃
He looked at her in amazement。 She evidently had a new idea
of his brother： she evidently appreciated him。 He looked again
at the woman。 She was about forty； straight； rather hard； a
curious； separate creature。 Himself； he was not in love with
her； there was something chilling about her。 But he was filled
with boundless admiration。
At tea…time he was introduced to her father； an invalid who
had to be helped about； but who was ruddy and well…favoured；
with snowy hair and watery blue eyes； and a courtly naive manner
that again was new and strange to Brangwen； so suave； so merry；
so innocent。
His brother was this woman's lover！ It was too amazing。
Brangwen went home despising himself for his own poor way of
life。 He was a clod…hopper and a boor； dull； stuck in the mud。
More than ever he wanted to clamber out； to this visionary
polite world。
He was well off。 He was as well off as Alfred； who could not
have above six hundred a year； all told。 He himself made about
four hundred； and could make more。 His investments got better
every day。 Why did he not do something？ His wife was a lady
also。
But when he got to the Marsh； he realized how fixed
everything was； how the other form of life was beyond him； and
he regretted for the first time that he had succeeded to the
farm。 He felt a prisoner； sitting safe and easy and
unadventurous。 He might； with risk； have done more with himself。
He could neither read Browning nor Herbert Spencer； nor have
access to such a room as Mrs。 Forbes's。 All that form of life
was outside him。
But then； he said he did not want it。 The excitement of the
visit began to pass off。 The next day he was himself； and if he
thought of the other woman； there was something about her and
her place that he did not like； something cold something alien；
as if she were not a woman； but an inhuman being who used up
human life for cold； unliving purposes。
The evening came on； he played with Anna； and then sat alone
with his own wife。 She was sewing。 He sat very still； smoking；
perturbed。 He was aware of his wife's quiet figure； and quiet
dark head bent over her needle。 It 。 It was
too peaceful。 He wanted to smash the walls down； and let the
night in； so that his wife should not be so secure and quiet；
sitting there。 He wished the air were not so close and narrow。
His wife was obliterated from him； she was in her own world；
quiet； secure； unnoticed； unnoticing。 He was shut down by
her。
He rose to go out。 He could not sit still any longer。 He must
get out of this oppressive； shut…down； woman…haunt。
His wife lifted her head and looked at him。
〃Are you going out？〃 she asked。
He looked down and met her eyes。 They were darker than
darkness； and gave deeper space。 He felt himself retreating
before her； defensive； whilst her eyes followed and tracked him
own。
〃I was just going up to Cossethay；〃 he said。
She remained watching him。
〃Why do you go？〃 she said。
His heart beat fast； and he sat down； slowly。
〃No reason particular；〃 he said； beginning to fill his pipe
again； mechanically。
〃Why do you go away so often？〃 she said。
〃But you don't want me；〃 he replied。
She was silent for a while。
〃You do not want to be with me any more；〃 she said。
It startled him。 How did she know this truth？ He thought it
was his secret。
〃Yi；〃 he said。
〃You want to find something else；〃 she said。
He did not answer。 〃Did he？〃 he asked himself。
〃You should not want so much attention；〃 she said。 〃You are
not a baby。〃
〃I'm not grumbling；〃 he said。 Yet he knew he was。
〃You think you have not enough；〃 she said。
〃How enough？〃
〃You think you have not enough in me。 But how do you know me？
What do you do to make me love you？〃
He was flabbergasted。
〃I never said I hadn't enough in you；〃 he replied。 〃I didn't
know you wanted making to love me。 What do you want？〃
〃You don't make it good between us any more； you are not
interested。 You do not make me want you。〃
〃And you don't make me want you； do you now？〃 There was a
silence。 They were such strangers。
〃Would you like to have another woman？〃 she asked。
His eyes grew round； he did not know where he was。 How could
she； his own wife； say such a thing？ But she sat there； small
and foreign and separate。 It dawned upon him she did not
consider herself his wife； except in so far as they agreed。 She
did not feel she had married him。 At any rate； she was willing
to allow he might want another woman。 A gap； a space opened
before him。
〃No；〃 he said slowly。 〃What other woman should I want？〃
〃Like your brother；〃 she said。
He was silent for some time； ashamed also。
〃What of her？〃 he said。 〃I didn't like the woman。〃
〃Yes； you liked her；〃 she answered persistently。
He stared in wonder at his own wife as she told him his own
heart so callously。 And he was indignant。 What right had she to
sit there telling him these things？ She was his wife； what right
had she to speak to him like this； as if she were a
stranger。
〃I didn't；〃 he said。 〃I want no woman。〃
〃Yes； you would like to be like Alfred。〃
His silence was one of angry frustration。 He was astonished。
He had told her of his visit to Wirksworth； but briefly； without
interest； he thought。
As she sat with her strange dark face turned towards him； her
eyes watched him； inscrutable； casting him up。 He began to
oppose her。 She was again the active unknown facing him。 Must he
admit her？ He resisted involuntarily。
〃Why should you want to find a woman who is more to you than
me？〃 she said。
The turbulence raged in his breast。
〃I don't；〃 he said。
〃Why do you？〃 she repeated。 〃Why do you want to deny me？〃
Suddenly； in a flash； he saw she might be lonely； isolated；
unsure。 She had seemed to him the utterly certain； satisfied；
absolute； excluding him。 Could she need anything？
〃Why aren't you satisfied with me？……I'm not satisfied
with you。 Paul used to e to me and take me like a man does。
You only leave me alone or take me like your cattle； quickly； to
forget me again……so that you can forget me again。〃
〃What am I to remember about you？〃 said Brangwen。
〃I want you to know there is somebody there besides
yourself。〃
〃Well； don't I know it？〃
〃You e to me as if it was for nothing； as if I was nothing
there。 When Paul came to me； I was something to him……a
woman； I was。 To you I am nothing……it is like
cattle……or nothing〃
〃You make me feel as if I was nothing；〃 he said。
They were silent。 She sat watching him。 He could not move；
his soul was seething and chaotic。 She turned to her sewing
again。 But the sight of her bent before him held him and would
not let him be。 She was a strange； hostile； dominant thing。 Yet
not quite hostile。 As he sat he felt his limbs were strong and
hard； he sat in strength。
She was silent for a long time； stitching。 He was aware；
poignantly； of the round shape of her head； very intimate；
pelling。 She lifted her head and sighed。 The blood burned in
him； her voice ran to him like fire。
〃e here；〃 she said； unsure。
For some moments he did not move。 Then he rose slowly and
went across the hearth。 It required an almost deathly effort of
volition； or of acquiescence。 He stood before her and looked
down at her。 Her face was shining again； her eyes were shinin