but at Brangwen. He became aware of the woman looking at him, standing there isolated yet for him dominant in her foreign existence.

He did not know what to do, and turned to his sister.

But the wide grey eyes, almost vacant yet so moving, held him beyond himself.

“Mother, I may have it, mayn't I?” came the child's proud, silvery tones. “Mother”-she seemed always to be calling her mother to remember her-”mother”-and she had nothing to continue now her mother had replied “Yes, my child.” But, with ready invention, the child stumbled and ran on, “What are those people's names?”

Brangwen heard the abstract:

“I don't know, dear.”