you must create. You mustn't expect it to be just your way."
"Ha—nor do I. If I did I should soon find my mistake out. If I put my hand out to take anything, my hand is very soon bitten, I can tell you."
"Then you must mind where you put your hand," said her father.
Anna was rather indignant that they took the tragedy of her young married life with such equanimity.
"You love the man right enough," said her father, wrinkling his forehead in distress. "That's all as counts."
"I do love him, more shame to him," she cried. "I want to tell him—I've been waiting for four days now to tell him" her face began to quiver, the tears came. Her parents watched her in silence. She did not go on.
"Tell him what?" said her father.
"That we're going to have an infant," she sobbed, "and he's never, never let me, not once, every time I've come to him, he's been horrid to me, and I wanted to tell him, I did. And he won't let me—he's cruel to me."
She sobbed as if her heart would break. Her mother went and comforted her, put her arms round her, and held her close. Her father sat with a queer, wrinkled brow, and was rather paler than usual. His heart went tense with hatred of his son-in-law.
So that, when the tale was sobbed out, and comfort administered and tea sipped, and something like calm restored to the little circle, the thought of Will Brangwen's entry was not pleasantly entertained.
Tilly was set to watch out for him as he passed by on his way home. The little party at table heard the woman-servant's shrill call:
"You've got to come in, Will. Anna's here."
After a few moments, the youth entered.
"Are you stopping?" he asked in his hard, harsh voice.
He seemed like a blade of destruction standing there. She quivered to tears.
"Sit you down," said Tom Brangwen, "an' take a bit off your length."
Will Brangwen sat down. He felt something strange in the atmosphere. He was dark browed, but his eyes had the keen, intent, sharp look, as if he could only see in the distance; which was a beauty in him, and which made Anna so angry.
