By this time they were in the lane and heading towards open country. Sam struck his forehead with the back of his hand and cast an apologetic glance at her. ‘I’m doing this awfully badly, aren’t I? But I know people will talk, and if I do as I know I must and go back to sea, you will have to face it alone . . .’

‘Talk about what?’ Glenys asked indignantly. ‘Oh – they think I should go back to teaching and leave the job of helping on the farm to one of them. Is that it? Some people are so nasty . . .’

‘Well no, it isn’t exactly that,’ Sam said, looking hunted. ‘It’s more they think I’m the Weathers’ son-in-law and therefore will probably inherit the farm . . .’ He stopped speaking and stared helplessly at his companion. ‘Don’t you see what that means? Oh, Glenys, I didn’t want to have to spell it out, but it’s clear that I must. They think you’re setting your cap at me, and that when I go to sea you’ll . . . you’ll work at making yourself indispensable to Nain and Taid and the children, so that when I come back . . .’ He hesitated, and then, seeing her expression, said quickly, ‘Don’t look so angry, girl. It’s always the same in small communities; people positively enjoy thinking the worst, and—’

‘Are they daring to say that I’ve chased all the way across Wales to pin you down and force you to marry me . . . is that what they’re saying?’ Glenys said, unable to keep the fury out of her voice. ‘How dare they think such a thing, how dare they! I’ve never even thought of marriage, with you or anyone else – oh, I’ll make them eat their words!’

Sam tried to put his arms round her but she pushed him away. ‘Don’t!’ she said sharply. ‘Do Nain and Taid know about these rumours?’

‘No-oo,’ Sam said miserably. ‘But Nain has hinted that I should regularise the situation by asking you to marry me. Oh, Glenys, I had meant to wait until we had known each other a little longer, but now that war is a certainty . . .’ Once more he tried to put his arm around her, but again she pushed him away.

‘So you were only asking me to marry you because your mother-in-law thinks it’s a good idea!’ she said furiously, feeling the hot blood rush into her cheeks and invade her face. ‘And won’t I be useful? A mother for your children, a nurse for your parents-in-law as they grow older and a worker for your farm, and all free! Well, you can forget it, Sam Trewin. I shall catch the train to Bangor tomorrow and put my name down for a teaching job, or for any job for which I’m qualified, in fact. And failing that I suppose you think I’ll come back here with my tail between my legs and beg to be allowed to take up your very obliging offer after all. Well, you’re out there! Because I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.’