must go your own way, and if it doesn't turn out as satisfactorily as
you expect, you can always change it."

"Reckon I can," said Joanna, "but I shan't have to. Won't you take
another whisky, Mr. Huxtable?"

The lawyer accepted. 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.




§3

Mr. Huxtable was not alone in his condemnation of Joanna's choice. The
whole neighbourhood disapproved of it. The joint parishes of Brodnyx and
Pedlinge had made up their minds that Joanna Godden would now be
compelled to marry Arthur Alce and settle down to mind her own business
instead of what was obviously a man's; and here she was, still at large
and her business more a man's than ever.

"She's a mare that's never been präaperly broken in, and she wants a
strong man to do it," said Furnese at the Woolpack. He had repeated this
celebrated remark so often that it had almost acquired the status of a
proverb. For three nights Joanna had been the chief topic of
conversation in the Woolpack bar. If Arthur Alce appeared a silence
would fall on the company, to be broken at last by some remark on the
price of wool or the Rye United's last match. Everybody was sorry for
Alce, everybody thought that Thomas Godden had treated him badly by not