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During the last year Ellen had become terribly good-mannered and grown up, and somehow that first glimpse of the elegant maiden whom her toil and sacrifice had built out of little Ellen Godden of Ansdore, never failed to give Joanna a queer sense of awkwardness and inferiority. To-day Ellen was more impressive, more "different" than ever.
With which threat he departed to groom himself. "He'll be all right," said Martin, "he likes Joanna Godden really." "So do I. She sounds a good sort. Will you take me to see her before I go?" "Certainly. I want you to meet her. When you do you'll see that I'm not doing anything rash, even from the worldly point of view.
Of course the neighbours disapprove, they've got very strict notions round here as to woman's sphere and all that sort of thing." "Godden? Which farm's that?" "Little Ansdore just across the Ditch, in Pedlinge parish. It's a big place, and I like her for taking it on." "And for any other reason?" "Lord, no!
He watched Miss Godden as she ate and laughed and kept the conversation rolling he also watched Arthur Alce, trying to use this man's devotion as a clue to what was left of Joanna's mystery. Alce struck him as a dull fellow, and he put down his faithfulness to the fact that having once fallen into love as into a rut he had lain there ever since like a sheep on its back.
"She's more like an organist's monkey," said her husband. "What ud I do if I ever saw you tricked out like that, Mrs. Prickett?" "Oh, I'd never wear such clothes, master, as you know well. But then I'm a different looking sort of woman. I wouldn't go so far as to say them bright colours don't suit Joanna Godden." "I never thought much of her looks."
"When you fall in love, you can take a stout yeoman with a bit of money, if you can't find a real gentleman same as I did. Howsumever, you're too young to go meddling with such things just yet. You be a good girl, Ellen Godden, and keep your back straight, and don't let the boys kiss you."
Thought of writing, but somehow felt that felt that inadequate.... Mr. Trevor, I've told you about Miss Godden ... our harmonium ..." He had actually seized Joanna's hand. She pulled it away. What a wretched undersized little chap he was. She could have borne his gratitude if only he had been a real man, tall and dark and straight like the young fellow who was coming up to her. "Please don't, Mr.
She sent him over a flock mattress and a woollen blanket, in case the old ague-spectre of the Marsh still haunted that desolate corner of water and reeds. Towards the end of that autumn, Joanna and Ellen Godden came out of their mourning. As was usual on such occasions, they chose a Sunday for their first appearance in colours.
She travelled about the country lecturing for a well-known suffrage society, and was bitterly disappointed in Joanna Godden because she expressed herself quite satisfied without the vote.
People thought it odd that the Old Squire should send pearls to Ellen Godden something for the table would have been much more seemly. Joanna had grown weary her shoulders drooped under her golden gown, she tossed back her head and yawned against the back of her hand. She was tired of it all, and wanted them to go. What were they staying for?
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