"Yes," continued Joseph Poorgrass--his shyness, which was so painful
as a defect, filling him with a mild complacency now that it was
regarded as an interesting study. "'Twere blush, blush, blush with
me every minute of the time, when she was speaking to me."

"I believe ye, Joseph Poorgrass, for we all know ye to be a very
bashful man."

"'Tis a' awkward gift for a man, poor soul," said the maltster. "And
how long have ye have suffered from it, Joseph?" [a]

[Transcriber's note a: Alternate text, appears in all three
editions on hand: "'Tis a' awkward gift for a man, poor soul,"
said the maltster. "And ye have suffered from it a long time, we
know."

"Ay, ever since..."]

"Oh, ever since I was a boy. Yes--mother was concerned to her heart
about it--yes. But 'twas all nought."

"Did ye ever go into the world to try and stop it, Joseph Poorgrass?"

"Oh ay, tried all sorts o' company. They took me to Greenhill
Fair, and into a great gay jerry-go-nimble show, where there were
women-folk riding round--standing upon horses, with hardly anything
on but their smocks; but it didn't cure me a morsel. And then I
was put errand-man at the Women's Skittle Alley at the back of the
Tailor's Arms in Casterbridge. 'Twas a horrible sinful situation,