men."

"And why not, again? Are all you men going to swindle me if you get the
chance?"

Joanna's laugh always had a disintegrating effect on Alce, with its loud
warm tones and its revelation of her pretty teeth--which were so white
and even, except the small pointed canines. When she laughed she opened
her mouth wide and threw back her head on her short white neck. Alce
gropingly put out a hairy hand towards her, which was his nearest
approach to a caress. Joanna flicked it away.

"Now a-done do, Arthur Alce"--dropping in her merriment into the lower
idiom of the Marsh--"a-done do with your croaking and your stroking
both. Let me go my own ways, for I know 'em better than you can."

"But these chaps--I don't like it--maybe, seeing you like this amongst
them, they'll get bold with you."

"Not they! How can you mention such a thing? There was Mr. Cobb and Mr.
Godfrey at dinner, talking to me as respectful as churchwardens, all
about liver fluke and then by way of rot in the oats, passing on natural
and civil to the Isle of Wight disease in potatoes--if you see anything
bold in _that_ ... well then you're an old woman as sure as I ain't."

A repetition of her laugh completed his disruption, and he found himself
there on the steps of the Crown begging her to let him take over her
market day discussions as her husband and deputy.

"Why should you go talking to farmers about Isle of Wight disease and