United States or Madagascar ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Besides, everyone was in a hurry to be finished and hear the reading of old Thomas Godden's will. Already several interesting rumours were afloat, notably one that he had left Ansdore to Joanna only on condition that she married Arthur Alce within the year. "She's a mare that's never been präaperly broken in, and she wants a strong hand to do it."
"Well, I could marry Arthur Alce any day I liked," she thought to herself. But somehow that did not seem any solution to the problem. She thought of one or two other men who had approached her, but had been scared off before they had reached any definite position of courtship.
He's lost you a dozen prime sheep on the top of all your other losses." The reference was unfortunate. Joanna's cheekbones darkened ominously. "It's all very well for you to talk, Arthur Alce, for you think no one can run Ansdore except yourself who'll never get the chance.
She had come to him as Ansdore to North Farthing but he had stripped her of Ansdore, and she was just Joanna Godden who had waited twenty-eight years for love. Yet, perhaps because she had waited so long, she was now a little afraid. She had hitherto met love only in the dim forms of Arthur Alce and Dick Socknersh, with still more hazy images in the courtships of Abbot and Cobb.
Alce discouraged her as well as he was able it was the wrong time of year for painting, and the old paint was still quite good. Joanna treated his objections as she had treated his proposal with good-humoured, almost tender, indifference. She let him make his moan at the house-painter's, then carelessly bore him on to the furnishers', where she bought brightly-flowered stuff for new curtains.
Before they sat down there were introductions to Arthur Alce and to Luck and Broadhurst and Stuppeny and the other farm people.
At Donkey Street, the neighbours were beginning to get used to young Honisett and his bride, at Rye and Lydd and Romney the farmers had given up expecting Arthur Alce to come round the corner on his grey horse, with samples of wheat or prices of tegs. At Ansdore, too, the breach was healed. Joanna and Ellen lived quietly together, sharing their common life without explosions.
She had lost her serenity, her sense of triumph she felt vaguely angry with the whole company, and snapped at Arthur Alce when he spoke to her across the table. He had asked after Ellen, knowing she had been to Folkestone. "Ellen's fine and learning such good manners as it seems a shame to bring her into these parts at Christmas for her to lose 'em." "On the other hand.
"You pop under the clothes, and I'll tuck you up. There's something I want to speak to you about if you ain't too sleepy." "About what?" "About this wedding of yours." "You've spoken to me about nothing else for weeks and months." "But I want to speak to you different and most particular. Duckie, are you quite sure you love Arthur Alce?" "Of course I'm sure, or I shouldn't be marrying him."
"Well she's got herself talked about over two men that she hasn't took, and now she's took a man that she hasn't got herself talked about over." "Anyways, I'm glad of it," said Furnese, "she's a mare that's never been präaperly broken in, and now at last she's got a man to do it." "Poor feller, Alce. I wonder how he'll take it." Alce took it very well.
Word Of The Day