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"I don't want to be quiet, thank you," said Joanna. She felt thankful that none of the few empty chairs was next Alce's she could never abide his fussing. She sat down between Cobb of Slinches and a farmer from Snargate way, and opened the conversation pleasantly on the subject of liver fluke in sheep.
Of course there was nothing to fear this fine, shy man would make no assault on Ellen Alce's frailty, it was merely a case of Ellen Alce becoming Ellen Ernley, if he could be persuaded to overlook her "past" a matter which Joanna thought important and doubtful. But the elder sister's heart twinged and ached as much as her bones.
Her sum of spectacular bliss stood in Shakespearean plays which she had seen, and in "Monsieur Beaucaire," which she had not. A wild beast show with its inevitable accompaniment of dust and chokiness and noise would give her no pleasure at all, and the slight interest which had lain in the escort of the Vines with the amorous Stacey was now removed. She did not want Arthur Alce's company.
When she had first married she had not thought it would be difficult to get herself accepted as "county" in the new neighbourhood, but she had soon discovered that she had had far more consequence as Joanna Godden's sister than she would ever have as Arthur Alce's wife.
She looked into the future, and between the present moment and the consummated union of North Farthing and Ansdore, she saw thrilling, half-dim, personal adventures for Martin and Joanna ... the touch of his hands would be quite different from the touch of Arthur Alce's ... and his lips she had never wanted a man's lips before, except perhaps Socknersh's for one wild, misbegotten minute ... she held in her heart the picture of Martin's well-cut, sensitive mouth, so unlike the usual mouths of Brodnyx and Pedlinge, which were either coarse-lipped or no-lipped.... Martin's mouth was wonderful it would be like fire on hers....
Ellen secretly despised Joanna's suitors, just as she secretly despised all Joanna's best and most splendid things. They were a dull lot, driving her sister home on market-day, or sitting for hours in the parlour with Arthur Alce's mother's silver tea-set. It was always "Good evening, Miss Godden," "Good evening, Mr. Turner" "Fine weather for roots" "A bit dry for the grazing."
And you know what folks say they say you'd have got shut of him months agone if you hadn't been so unaccountable set on him, so as they say yes, they say one day you'll marry him and make him master of Ansdore." Alce's face flamed as red as his whiskers and nearly as red as Joanna's cheeks. For a moment she faced him speechless, her mouth open.
"Oh, don't you git started on that again I thought you'd done." "I'll never have done of that." Joanna looked vexed. Alce's wooing had grown stale, and no longer gratified her.
If I were you, I shouldn't apply for total exemption, but for a rebate. We might do something with allowances. Let me see, what did you sell for?"... He finally prepared an involved case, partly depending on the death duties that had already been paid when Joanna inherited Alce's farm, and which he said ought to be considered in calculating increment value.
He looked devout, exalted, as he armed his little bride and watched her sister. "Arthur Alce looks pleased enough," said Furnese to Mrs. Bates "reckon he sees he's got the best of the family." "Maybe he's thankful now that Joanna wouldn't take him." Neither of them noticed that the glow was in Alce's eyes chiefly when they rested on Joanna.
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