a humble soul, but seemingly you can't get that
through advertising...."

She had come to the bridge over the Kent Ditch, and Sussex ended in a
swamp of reeds. Looking southward she saw the boundaries of her own
land, the Kent Innings, dotted with sheep, and the shepherd's cottage
among them, its roof standing out a bright orange under the fleece of
lichen that smothered the tiles. It suddenly struck her that a good way
out of her difficulty might be a straight talk with Socknersh. He would
probably be working in his garden now, having those few evening hours as
his own. Straining her eyes into the shining thickness of mist and sun,
she thought she could see his blue shirt moving among the bean-rows and
hollyhocks around the little place.

"I'll go and see him and talk it out--I'll tell him that if he won't
have proper sense he must go. I've been soft, putting up with him all
this time."

Being marsh bred, Joanna did not take what seemed the obvious way to the
cottage, across the low pastures by the Kent Ditch; instead, she went
back a few yards to where a dyke ran under the road. She followed it out
on the marsh, and when it cut into another dyke she followed that,
walking on the bank beside the great teazle. A plank bridge took her
across between two willows, and after some more such movements, like a
pawn on a chess-board, she had crossed three dykes and was at the
shepherd's gate.

He was working at the farther side of the garden and did not see her
till she called him. She had been to his cottage only once before, when
he complained of the roof leaking, but Socknersh would not have shown
surprise if he had seen Old Goodman of the marsh tales standing at his
door. Joanna had stern, if somewhat arbitrary, notions of propriety, and
now not only did she refuse to come inside the gate, but she made him
come and stand outside it, among the seed-grasses which were like the
ghost of hay.

It struck her that she had timed her visit a little too late. Already
the brightness had gone from the sunset, leaving a dull red ball hanging
lustreless between the clouds. There was no wind, but the air seemed to
be moving slowly up from the sea, heavy with mist and salt and the scent
of haws and blackberries, of dew-soaked grass and fleeces.... Socknersh
stood before her with his blue shirt open at the neck. From him came a
smell of earth and sweat ... his clothes smelt of sheep....

She opened her mouth to tell him that she wa