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Then something in Ellen's looks as she spoke to Arthur, in her manner as she spoke of him, made her suspicious and one Sunday evening, walking home from church, she became sure. The service had been at Pedlinge, in the queer barn-like church whose walls inside were painted crimson; and directly it was over Ellen had taken charge of Alce, who was coming back to supper with them.
Arthur Alce was no longer the only suitor at Ansdore it was well known that Sam Turner, who had lately moved from inland to Northlade, was wanting to have her, and Hugh Vennal would have been glad to bring her as his second wife to Beggar's Bush.
A child that was what she had always wanted; she had tried to fill her heart with other things, with Ansdore, with Ellen, with men ... but what she had always wanted had been a child she saw that now. Her child should have been born in easy, honourable circumstances, with a kind father Arthur Alce, perhaps, since it could not be Martin Trevor.
Joanna resented the authority that Ellen assumed it took some time to show her that Arthur was no longer hers. She objected when Ellen made him shave off his moustache and whiskers; he looked ten years younger and a far handsomer man, but he was no longer the traditional Arthur Alce of Joanna's history, and she resented it.
Round it were two concentric rings of teacups good old Worcester china, except for a common three which had been added for number's sake, and which Joanna carefully bestowed upon herself, Ellen, and Arthur Alce.
It was not winter now, and there was no sign of the red-faced trader or of the dreadful, capering Indian. There was only a sound in the air, a strange noise coming to them from the pass between the hills over which rose the sun. The man with the musket sent his voice before him as he approached the group upon the doorstep: "Alce, woman! What's amiss? I see naught wrong!"
The rangers gathered fallen wood, and kindled two mighty fires, while the gentlemen of the party threw themselves down beside the stream, upon a little grassy rise shadowed by a huge sugar-tree. A mound of turf, flanked by two spreading roots, was the Governor's chair of state, and Alce and Molly he must needs seat beside him.
Still, if Ellen wouldn't stay unless he went, she would rather have Ellen than Alce.... He would have to sell Donkey Street, or perhaps he might let it off for a little time. April had just become May when Ellen returned to Ansdore.
Are all you men going to swindle me if you get the chance?" Joanna's laugh always had a disintegrating effect on Alce, with its loud warm tones and its revelation of her pretty teeth which were so white and even, except the small pointed canines. When she laughed she opened her mouth wide and threw back her head on her short white neck.
Joanna Godden's temper might be bad, but her whisky was good. He wondered if the one would make up for the other to Arthur Alce or whoever had married her by this time next year. Mr. Huxtable was not alone in his condemnation of Joanna's choice. The whole neighbourhood disapproved of it.
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