almost brutal to feel so master of himself and of the
situation.

Her eyes rested on him for a moment, questioning, as she
thought of the meaning of his speech.

"No," she said, understanding. "No--it is strange."

"You find it middlin' rough?" he said.

Her eyes waited on him, so that he should say it again.

"Our ways are rough to you," he repeated.

"Yes--yes, I understand. Yes, it is different, it is
strange. But I was in Yorkshire----"

"Oh, well then," he said, "it's no worse here than what they
are up there."

She did not quite understand. His protective manner, and his
sureness, and his intimacy, puzzled her. What did he mean? If he
was her equal, why did he behave so without formality?

"No----" she said, vaguely, her eyes resting on
him.

She saw him fresh and naive, uncouth, almost entirely
beyond relationship with her. Yet he was good-looking, with his
fair hair and blue eyes full of energy, and with his healthy
body that seemed to take equality with her. She watched him
steadily. He was difficult for her to understand, warm, uncouth,
and confident as he was, sure on his feet as if he did not know
what it was to be unsure. What then was it that gave him this
curious stability?

She did not know. She wondered. She looked round the room he
lived in. It had a close intimacy that fascinated and almost
frightened her. The furniture was old and familiar as old
people, the whole place seemed so kin to him, as if it partook
of his being, that she was uneasy.

"It is already a long time that you have lived in this
house--yes?" she asked.

"I've always lived here," he said.

"Yes--but your people--your family?"

"We've been here above two hundred years," he said. Her eyes
were on him all the time, wide-open and trying to grasp him. He
felt that he was there for her.

"It is your own place, the house, the
farm----?"

"Yes," he said. He looked down at her and met her look. It
disturbed her. She did not know him. He was a foreigner, they
had nothing to do with each other. Yet his look disturbed her to
knowledge of him. He was so strangely confident and direct.

"You live quite alone?"

"Yes--if you call it alone?"

She did not understand. It seemed unusual to her. What was
the meaning of it?

And whenever her eyes, after watching him for some time,
inevitably met his, she was aware of a heat beating up over her
consciousness. She sat motionless and in conflict. Who was this
strange man