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within herself; she slipped out one evening to the workshed。 She

heard the tap…tap…tap of the hammer upon the metal。 Her father

lifted his head as the door opened。 His face was ruddy and

bright with instinct; as when he was a youth; his black

moustache was cut close over his wide mouth; his black hair was

fine and close as ever。 But there was about him an abstraction;

a sort of instrumental detachment from human things。 He was a

worker。 He watched his daughter's hard; expressionless face。 A

hot anger came over his breast and belly。

〃What now?〃 he said。

〃Can't I;〃 she answered; looking aside; not looking at him;

〃can't I go out to work?〃

〃Go out to work; what for?〃

His voice was so strong; and ready; and vibrant。 It irritated

her。

〃I want some other life than this。〃

A flash of strong rage arrested all his blood for a

moment。

〃Some other life?〃 he repeated。 〃Why; what other life do you

want?〃

She hesitated。

〃Something else besides housework and hanging about。 And I

want to earn something。〃

Her curious; brutal hardness of speech; and the fierce

invincibility of her youth; which ignored him; made him also

harden with anger。

〃And how do you think you're going to earn anything?〃

he asked。

〃I can bee a teacher……I'm qualified by my

matric。〃

He wished her matric。 in hell。

〃And how much are you qualified to earn by your matric。?〃 he

asked; jeering。

〃Fifty pounds a year;〃 she said。

He was silent; his power taken out of his hand。

He had always hugged a secret pride in the fact that his

daughters need not go out to work。 With his w

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