All this thinking did not make either for much talk or much appetite, and Joanna was disappointed.  She let fall one or two remarks on farming and outside matters, thinking that perhaps the conversation was too homely and intimate for him, but he responded only languidly.

“A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Trevor,” said Ellen pertly.

“You eat your pudding,” said Joanna.

It occurred to her that perhaps Martin was disgusted by the homeliness of the meal—­after all, he was gentry, and it was unusual for gentry to sit down to dinner with a crowd of farm-hands....  No doubt at home he had wine-glasses, and a servant-girl to hand the dishes.  She made a resolution to ask him again and provide both these luxuries.  To-day she would take him into the parlour and make Ellen show off her accomplishments, which would help put a varnish of gentility on the general coarseness of the entertainment.  She wished she had asked Mr. Pratt—­she had thought of doing so, but finally decided against it.

So when the company had done shovelling the Stilton cheese into their mouths with their knives, she announced that she and Mr. Trevor would have their cups of tea in the parlour, and told Milly to go quick and light the fire.

Ellen was most satisfactorily equal to this part of the occasion.  She recited “Curfew shall not Ring Tonight,” and played Haydn’s “Gipsy Rondo.”  Joanna began to feel complacent once more.

“I made up my mind she should go to a good school,” she said when her sister had run back to what festivities lingered in the kitchen, “and really it’s wonderful what they’ve taught her.  She’ll grow up to be a lady.”

It seemed to Martin that she stressed the last word rather wistfully, and the next moment she added—­

“There’s not many of your sort on the Marsh.”

“How do you mean—­my sort?”

“Gentlefolk.”

“Oh, we don’t trouble to call ourselves gentlefolk.  My father and I are just plain farmers now.”

“But you don’t really belong to us—­you’re the like of the Savilles at Dungemarsh Court, and the clergy families.”

“Is that where you put us?—­We’d find our lives jolly dull if we shut ourselves up in that set.  I can tell you that I’ve enjoyed myself far more here to-day than ever at the Court or the Rectory.  Besides, Miss Godden, your position on Walland Marsh is very much better than ours.  You’re a great personage, you know.”

“Reckon folks talk about me,” said Joanna proudly.  “Maybe you’ve heard ’em.”

He nodded.

“You’ve heard about me and Arthur Alce?”

“I’ve heard some gossip.”

“Don’t you believe it.  I’m fond of Arthur, but he ain’t my style—­and I could do better for myself ...”

She paused—­her words seemed to hang in the flickering warmth of the room.  She was waiting for him to speak, and he felt a little shocked and repelled.  She was angling for him—­he had never suspected that.