He went red with anger.
“Ay—don’t worry,” he called back.
“How long are yer stoppin’?” they asked.
“Not after Christmas,” he said.
And the girl gave a tinkling peal of laughter.
“All right—by-bye!” called his friends.
And they cantered off, leaving him very flushed, trying to be quite normal with the girl. But presently he had gone back to the hotel and given his horse into the charge of an ostler and had gone off with the girl into the woods, not quite knowing where he was or what he was doing. His heart thumped and he thought it the most glorious adventure, and was mad with desire for the girl.
Afterwards he glowed with pleasure. By Jove, but that was something like! He [stayed the afternoon with the girl, and] wanted to stay the night. She, however, told him this was impossible: her own man would be back by dark, and she must be with him. He, Brangwen, must not let on that there had been anything between them.
She gave him an intimate smile, which made him feel confused and gratified.
He could not tear himself away, though he had promised not to interfere with the girl. He stayed on at the hotel over night. He saw the other fellow at the evening meal: a small, middle-aged man with iron-grey hair and a curious face, like a monkey’s, but interesting, in its way almost beautiful. Brangwen guessed that he was a foreigner. He was in company with another, an Englishman, dry and hard. The four sat at table, two men and two women. Brangwen watched with all his eyes.