“The chemist says it’s failin’ with both,” commented Olwyn. “They’ll not die very far apart. They’ll be keepin’ the minister busy what with visitin’ them and then buryin’ them. It’ll be hard on Robert.”
“It will.”
“You say Griffiths is not back?”
“No, not back.”
“He’ll be comin’?”
“Aye.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
III
Griffith Griffiths brings his Happy Thought Home
The evening light lay purple and lavender on the heather-covered hills; it cut through Aberglaslyn Pass in a golden shaft, gilding the jagged top of Craig y Llan and making the cliff side of Moel Hebog sparkle. Griffith Griffiths sniffed the honeyed air of his Welsh valleys hungrily. The nearer he came to home the more purple seemed the heather and the more golden the gorse.