Page 33 (1/2)

Night was falling, the bare trees drummed and whistled The

vicar, he kneould be in his study, the Polish woman in the

kitchen, a coht, he went through the gate and down the path where a few

daffodils stooped in the wind, and shattered crocuseson to the bushes at the back froan to hesitate How could he do this?

Looking through the , he saw her seated in the

rocking-chair with the child, already in its nightdress, sitting

on her knee The fair head with its wild, fierce hair was

drooping towards the fire-warht

cheeks and clear skin of the child, who seerown-up person The , that she ay back in the

life that had been The child's hair glealass,

her face was illuminated till it seely Mother and child sat

with vacant dark eyes into

the fire, the irl was

almost asleep It was her hich kept her eyes so wide

Suddenly she looked round, troubled, as the wind shook the

house, and Brangwen saw the sht crunch of the rockers of the chair

Then he heard the low, reat burst of wind, the mother seemed to have