When Ivor reached his own lodgings he found Gwen had brought her work out of the cwrt[[1]] to catch the last beams of the evening sun.
"Ah!" he said pleasantly, "getting on with the laces and ribbons?"
"Oh, yes," she said, with a toss of her head; "I am not one to let the grass grow under my feet when once I have made up my mind."
"No, indeed, you never were," and he disappeared under the low doorway, where his voice could be heard in cheerful conversation with Lallo.
There had been nothing unfriendly in Gwen's words, but Ivor was quite aware of the spiteful, sweeping glance which she cast after him.
When she soon after followed him into the dark penisha,[[2]] she flung her work aside, saying:
"Wfft to the old sun; he went down just as I wanted him."
"Never mind, he'll come round again to-morrow," said Lallo, "and thou canst catch his first beams if thou wishest."
Gwen made no answer, but raked the embers together with her wooden shoe. She was a pale, freckled girl, with a short nose and a wide mouth, and had no pretensions to beauty; but her shrewdness and quickness of repartee had made her a favourite with the lads of the village.
Siencyn Owen had courted her for years, had been flattered and rebuffed in turns, and had remained faithful through all; while Gwen, who had nursed a secret passion for Ivor, had in vain made every endeavour to win his affections. At length her shrewdness had made it evident to her that she was wasting her youth and her blandishments in a hopeless cause, and she had accepted the long-enduring Siencyn, although in that passionate, fiery little heart of hers, Ivor Parry still had the first place.