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〃Ay； I'm min'；〃 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 e 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。
〃e 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 in 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。〃
〃Should us leave you then……you seem to be fixed up
there？〃 called Brangwen's panions from the road。
He went red with anger。
〃Ay……don't worry；〃 he called back。
〃How long are yer stoppin'？〃 they asked。
〃Not after Christmas；〃 he said。
And the girl gave a tinkling peal of laughter。
〃All right……by…bye！〃 called his friends。
And they cantered off； leaving him very flushed； trying to be
quite normal with the girl。 But presently he had gone back to
the hotel and given his horse into the charge of an ostler and
had gone off with the girl into the woods； not quite knowing
where he was or what he was doing。 His heart thumped and he
thought it the most glorious adventure； and was mad with desire
for the girl。
Afterwards he glowed with pleasure。 By Jove； but that was
something like！ He ＇stayed the afternoon with the girl； and＇
wanted to stay the night。 She； however； told him this was impossible：
her own man would be back by dark； and she must be with him。
He； Brangwen； must not let on that there had been anything
between them。
She gave him an intimate smile； which made him feel confused
and gratified。
He could not tear himself away； though he had promised not to
interfere with the girl。 He stayed on at the hotel over night。
He saw the other fellow at the evening meal： a small；
middle…aged man with iron…grey hair and a curious face； like a
monkey's； but interesting； in its way almost beautiful。 Brangwen
guessed that he was a foreigner。 He was in pany with another；
an Englishman； dry and hard。 The four sat at table； two men and
two women。 Brangwen watched with all his eyes。
He saw how the foreigner treated the women with courteous
contempt； as if they were pleasing animals。 Brangwen's girl had
put on a ladylike manner； but her voice betrayed her。 She wanted
to win back her man。 When dessert came on； however； the little
foreigner turned round from his table and calmly surveyed the
room； like one unoccupied。 Brangwen marvelled over the cold；
animal intelligence of the face。 The brown eyes were round；
showing all the brown pupil； like a monkey's； and just calmly
looking； perceiving the other person without referring to him at
all。 They rested on Brangwen。 The latter marvelled at the old
face turned round on him； looking at him without considering it
necessary to know him at all。 The eyebrows of the round；
perceiving； but unconcerned eyes were rather high up； with
slight wrinkles above them； just as a monkey's had。 It was an
old； ageless face。
The man was most amazingly a gentleman all the time； an
aristocrat。 Brangwen stared fascinated。 The girl was pushing her
crumbs about on the cloth； uneasily； flushed and angry。
As Brangwen sat motionless in the hall afterwards； too much
moved and lost to know what to do； the little stranger came up
to him with a beautiful smile and manner； offering a cigarette
and saying：
〃Will you smoke？〃
Brangwen never smoked cigarettes； yet he took the one
offered； fumbling painfully with thick fingers； blushing to the
roots of his hair。 Then he looked with his warm blue eyes at the
almost sardonic； lidded eyes of the foreigner。 The latter sat
down beside him； and they began to talk； chiefly of horses。
Brangwen loved the other man for his exquisite graciousness；
for his tact and reserve； and for his ageless； monkey…like
self…surety。 They talked of horses； and of Derbyshire； and of
farming。 The stranger warmed to the young fellow with real
warmth； and Brangwen was excited。 He was transported at meeting
this odd； middle…aged； dry…skinned man； personally。 The talk was
pleasant； but that did not matter so much。 It was the gracious
manner； the fine contact that was all。
They talked a long while together； Brangwen flushing like a
girl when the other did not understand his idiom。 Then they said
good night； and shook hands。 Again the foreigner bowed and
repeated his good night。
〃Good night； and bon voyage。〃
Then he turned to the stairs。
Brangwen went up to his room and lay staring out at the stars
of the summer night； his whole being in a whirl。 What was it
all？ There was a life so different from what he knew it。 What
was there outside his knowledge； how much？ What was this that he
had touched？ What was he in this new influence？ What did
everything mean？ Where was life； in that which he knew or all
outside him？
He fell asleep； and in the morning had ridden away before any
other visitors were awake。 He shrank from seeing any of them
again； in the morning。
His mind was one big excitement。 The girl and the foreigner：
he knew neither of their names。 Yet they had set fire to the
homestead of his nature； and he would be burned out of cover。 Of
the two experiences； perhaps the meeting with the foreigner was
the more significant。 But the girl……he had not settled
about the girl。
He did not know。 He had to leave it there； as it was。 He
could not sum up his experiences。
The result of these encounters was； that he dreamed day and
night； absorbedly； of a voluptuous woman and of the meeting with
a small； withered foreigner of ancient breeding。 No sooner was
his mind free； no sooner had he left his own panions； than he
began to imagine an intimacy with fine…textured； subtle…mannered
people such as the foreigner at Matlock； and amidst this subtle
intimacy was always the satisfaction of a voluptuous woman。
He went about absorbed in the interest and the actuality of
this dream。 His eyes glowed； he walked with his head up； full of
the exquisite pleasure of aristocratic subtlety and grace；
tormented with the desire for the girl。
Then gradually the glow began to fade； and the cold material
of his customary life to show through。 He resented it。 Was he
cheated in his illusion？ He balked the mean enclosure of
reality； stood stubbornly like a bull at a gate； refusing to
re…enter the well…known round of his own life。
He drank more than usual to keep up the glow。 But it faded
more and more for all that。 He set his teeth at the monplace；
to which he would not submit。 It resolved itself starkly before
him； for all that。
He wanted to marry； to get settled somehow； to get out of the
quandary he found himself in。 But how？ He felt unable to move
his limbs。 He had seen a little creature caught in bird…lime；
and the sight was a nightmare to him。 He began to feel mad with
the rage of impotency。
He wanted something to get hold of； to pull himself out。 But
there was nothing。 Steadfastly he looked at the young women； to
find a one he could marry。 But not one of them did he want。 And
he knew that the idea of a life among such people as the
foreigner was ridiculous。
Yet he dreamed of it； and stuck to his dreams； and would not
have the reality of Cossethay and Ilkeston。 There he sat
stubbornly in his corner at the 〃Red Lion〃； smoking and musing
and occasionally lifting his beer…pot； and saying nothing； for
all the world like a gorping farm…labourer； as he said
himself。
Then a fever of restless anger came upon him。 He wanted to go
away……right away。 He dreamed of foreign parts。 But somehow
he had no contact with them。 And it was a very strong root which
held him to the Marsh； to his own house and land。
Then Effie got married； and he was left in the house with
only Tilly； the cross…eyed woman…servant who had been with them
for fifteen years。 He felt things ing to a close。 All the
time； he had held himself stubbornly resistant to the action of
the monplace unreality which wanted to absorb him。 But now he
had to do something。
He was by nature temperate。 Being sensitive and emotional；
his nausea prevented him from drinking too much。
But；