'Ah, this is Miss Brangwen,' he said, suddenly rousing as she entered,
announced by the man-servant. 'Thomas, put Miss Brangwen a chair
here--that's right.' He looked at her soft, fresh face with pleasure.
It gave him the illusion of life. 'Now, you will have a glass of sherry
and a little piece of cake. Thomas--' 'No thank you,' said Gudrun. And as soon as she had said it, her heart
sank horribly. The sick man seemed to fall into a gap of death, at her
contradiction. She ought to play up to him, not to contravene him. In
an instant she was smiling her rather roguish smile.
'I don't like sherry very much,' she said. 'But I like almost anything
else.' The sick man caught at this straw instantly.
'Not sherry! No! Something else! What then? What is there, Thomas?' 'Port wine--curacao--' 'I would love some curacao--' said Gudrun, looking at the sick man
confidingly.
'You would. Well then Thomas, curacao--and a little cake, or a
biscuit?' 'A biscuit,' said Gudrun. She did not want anything, but she was wise.
'Yes.' He waited till she was settled with her little glass and her biscuit.
Then he was satisfied.
'You have heard the plan,' he said with some excitement, 'for a studio
for Winifred, over the stables?' 'No!' exclaimed Gudrun, in mock wonder.
'Oh!--I thought Winnie wrote it to you, in her letter!' 'Oh--yes--of course. But I thought perhaps it was only her own little
idea--' Gudrun smiled subtly, indulgently. The sick man smiled also,
elated.
'Oh no. It is a real project. There is a good room under the roof of
the stables--with sloping rafters. We had thought of converting it into
a studio.' 'How VERY nice that would be!' cried Gudrun, with excited warmth. The
thought of the rafters stirred her.
'You think it would? Well, it can be done.' 'But how perfectly splendid for Winifred! Of course, it is just what is
needed, if she is to work at all seriously. One must have one's
workshop, otherwise one never ceases to be an amateur.' 'Is that so? Yes. Of course, I should like you to share it with
Winifred.' 'Thank you SO much.' Gudrun knew all these things already, but she must look shy and very
grateful, as if overcome.
'Of course, what I should like best, would be if you could give up your
work at the Grammar School, and just avail yourself of the studio, and
work there--well, as much or as little as you liked--' He looked at Gudrun with dark, vacant eyes. She looked back at him as
if full of gratitude. These phrases of a dying man were so complete and
natural, coming like echoes through his dead mouth.