re's tyranny into the fire
of Donkey Street's dullness. She knew better now--besides, the increased
freedom and comfort of her conditions did not involve the same urgency
of escape.

She made up her mind that she would not take anyone of the farming
classes; this time she would marry a gentleman--but a decent sort. She
did not enjoy all her memories of Sir Harry Trevor. She would not take
up with that kind of man again, any more than with a dull fellow like
poor Arthur.

She had far better opportunities than in the old days. The exaltation of
Ansdore from farm to manor had turned many keys, and Joanna now received
calls from doctors' and clergymen's wives, who had hitherto ignored her
except commercially. It was at Fairfield Vicarage that Ellen met the
wife of a major at Lydd camp, and through her came to turn the heads of
various subalterns. The young officers from Lydd paid frequent visits to
Ansdore, which was a novelty to both the sisters, who hitherto had had
no dealings with military society. Ellen was far too prudent to engage
herself to any of these boys; she waited for a major or a captain at
least. But she enjoyed their society, and knew that their visits gave
her consequence in the neighbourhood. She was invariably discreet in her
behaviour, and was much reproached by them for her coldness, which they
attributed to Joanna, who watched over her like a dragon, convinced that
the moment she relaxed her guard her sister would inevitably return to
her wicked past.

Ellen would have felt sore and insulted if she had not the comfort of
knowing in her heart that Joanna was secretly envious--a little hurt
that these personable young men came to Ansdore for Ellen alone. They
liked Joanna, in spite of her interference; they said she was a good
sort, and spoke of her among themselves as "the old girl" and "Joanna
God-dam." But none of them thought of turning from Ellen to her
sister--she was too weather-beaten for them, too big and
bouncing--over-ripe. Ellen, pale as a flower, with wide lips like
rose-leaves and narrow, brooding eyes, with her languor, and faint
suggestions of the exotic, all the mystery with which fate had chosen to
veil the common secret which was Ellen Alce.... She could now have the
luxury of pitying her sister, of seeing herself possessed of what her
tyrant Joanna had not, and longed for.... Slowly she was gaining the
advantage, her side of the wheel was mounting while Joanna's went down;
in spi