any man turn. But what should she do if he went?--He must not go. She
would never get anyone like him. She almost turned and went back, but
had enough sense to stop--a public apology would only make a worse
scandal of a public rebuke. She must wait and see him alone ... the next
minute she knew further that she must not apologize, and the minute
after she knew further still--almost further than she could bear--that
in denying herself an apology she was denying herself a luxury, that she
wanted to apologize, to kneel at Socknersh's clay-caked feet and beg his
forgiveness, to humble herself before him by her penitence so that he
could exalt her by his pardon....

"Good sakes! Whatever's the matter with me?" thought Joanna.

Sec.16

Her apology took the discreet form of a side of bacon, and Socknersh did
not give notice--had evidently never thought of it. Of course the
shearers spread the story of Joanna's outburst when they went on to
Slinches and Birdskitchen and other farms, but no one was surprised that
the shepherd stayed on.

"He'd never be such a fool as to give up being looker a day before she
makes him master," said Cobb of Slinches.

"And when he's master," said Mrs. Cobb, "he'll get his own back for her
sassing him before Harmer and his men."

A few weeks later Socknersh brought the first of the cross-bred lambs to
market at Rye, and Joanna's wonderful sheep-breeding scheme was finally
sealed a failure. The lambs were not only poor in wool, but coarse in
meat, and the butchers would not deal, small mutton being the fashion.
Altogether they fetched lower prices than the Kent lambs, and the rumour
of Ansdore's losses mounted to over four hundred pounds.

Rumour was not very wide of the fact--what with hiring fees, railway
expenses, the loss of ewes and lambs at the lambing, and the extra diet
and care which panic had undertaken for the survivors, the venture had
put about two hundred and sixty pounds on the debit side of Joanna's
accounts. She was able to meet her losses--her father had died with a
comfortable balance in Lewes Old Bank, and she had always paid ready
money, so was without any encumbrance of debt--but Ansdore was bound to
feel the blow, which had shorn it of its fleece of pleasant profits.
Joanna was for the first time confronted by the need for economy, and
she hated economy with all the lavish, colour-loving powers of her
nature. Even now she would not bend herself to retrenchment--n