asked Brangwen.

“No — I'll tell her on Saturday.”

“You'll go and see her?”

“Yes.”

There was a long pause.

“And what are you going to marry on — your pound a week?”

Again the youth went pale, as if the spirit were being injured in him.

“I don't know,” he said, looking at his uncle with his bright inhuman eyes, like a hawk's.

Brangwen stirred in hatred.

“It needs knowing,” he said.

“I shall have the money later on,” said the nephew.