It was odd that Jerry’s cowed retreat should have caused her more fear than his swaggering aggression—nevertheless, all that day she could not get rid of her uneasiness, and with the arbitrariness of superstition linked the evening’s catastrophe with the earlier foreboding.

She had run down to the Shop, to buy some washing soda, and have a chat with Thyrza, and on her return was met in the passage by Nell, who looked at her hard and said—

“There’s someone come to see you—a Mrs. Seagrim.”

Ivy’s heart jumped. She wished that there had not been quite such a wind to blow about her hair, and that she had had time to mend the hole in her skirt that morning. If Willie’s mother had come to inspect his choice ... howsumdever, he had often spoken of his mother as a kind soul.

But the woman in the kitchen with Mrs. Beatup was only a few years older than Ivy—a tall, slim creature, with reddish hair, and a beautiful pale face. She was dressed like a lady, too, in a neat coat and skirt, with gloves and cloth-topped boots. Ivy felt the blood drain from her heart, and yet she had anticipated Mrs. Beatup with no definite thought when the latter said—

“Ivy, this is Corporal Seagrim’s wife.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ivy heard someone say, and it must have been herself, for the next moment she was shaking hands with Mrs. Seagrim.

There was a moment’s pause, during which the two women stared at Ivy, then the corporal’s wife remarked, with a North-country accent that came startlingly from her elegance, that it was gey dirty weather.

“Thicking up fur thunder, I reckon,” said Mrs. Beatup.

[166]

“Yo get it gey thick and saft down here, A’m thinking.”

“Unaccountable,” said Mrs. Beatup, and squinted nervously at Ivy.

Ivy’s wits had at first been blown to the four winds, and she sat during this conversation with her mouth open, but gradually resolve began to form in her sickened heart; she felt her brain and body stiffen—she would fight....

“A chose a bad week t’coom Sooth,” started Mrs. Seagrim, “but ’twas all the choice A had—A hae t’roon my man’s business now he’s sojering. Yo’ mither tells me, Miss Beatup, as nane here knaws he’s marrit. But marrit he is, and has twa bonny bairns.”

“I know,” said Ivy—“he toald me.”

“He toald you!” broke in Mrs. Beatup. “You said naun to me about it.”

“I disremember. He wur only here the twice.”

Mrs. Seagrim looked at her curiously.

“Weel, maist folk didn’t sim t’knaw. A took a room in Hailsham toon, and the gude woman said as how t’Corporal had allus passed for a bachelor man, and was coorting a lass up t’next village.”

“Maybe she thinks he wur a-courting me,” snapped Ivy, “but he dud naun of the like. He toald me he was married the fust day I set eyes on un.”

“Weel, that was on’y reet. So many of those marrit sojer chaps go and deceive puir lasses. A hear there’s been a mort of trouble and wickedness done that way.”

“Maybe,” said Ivy—“women are gurt owls, most of them.”

“And,” continued Mrs. Seagrim, “it’s only reet and [167] kind of the wives of such men to go and tell any poor body as is like to be deceived by them.”

“That’s true enough. But your trouble’s thrown away on me. I knew all about un from the fust.”

“Weel, A’ve done ma duty ony way,” and Mrs. Seagrim rose, extending a gloved hand, “and A’m reet glad as Seagrim was straight with yo’, when he seems to have passed as single with everyone else.”

“It must be a tar’ble trial to have a man lik that,” said Ivy. “He’ll cost you a dunnamany shilluns and p............