and daring as he became confused, it amused her to see him come on.
"When must you get back?" she asked.
"I'm not particular," he said.
There the conversation again broke down.
Brangwen's companions were ready to go on.
"Art commin', Tom," they called, "or art for stoppin'?"
"Ay, I'm commin'," he replied, rising reluctantly, an angry sense of futility and disappointment spreading over him.
He met the full, almost taunting look of the girl, and he trembled with unusedness.
"Shall you come an' have a look at my mare," he said to her, with his hearty kindliness that was now shaken with trepidation.
"Oh, I should like to," she said, rising.
And she followed him, his rather sloping shoulders and his cloth riding-gaiters, out of the room. The young men got their own horses out of the stable.
"Can you ride?" Brangwen asked her.
"I should like to if I could—I have never tried," she said.
"Come then, an' have a try," he said.
And he lifted her, he blushing, she laughing, into the saddle.
"I s'll slip off—it's not a lady's saddle," she cried.
"Hold yer tight," he said, and he led her out of the hotel gate.
The girl sat very insecurely, clinging fast. He put a hand on her waist, to support her. And he held her closely, he clasped her as an embrace, he was weak with desire as he strode beside her.
The horse walked by the river.
"You want to sit straddle-leg," he said to her.
"I know I do," she said.
It was the time of very full skirts. She managed to get astride the horse, quite decently, showing an intent concern for covering her pretty leg.
"It's a lot's better this road," she said, looking down at him.
"Ay, it is," he said, feeling the marrow melt in his bones from the look in her eyes. "I dunno why they have that side-saddle business, twistin' a woman, in two."
