4
It was odd that Jerry’s cowed retreat should have caused her more fear than his swaggering aggression—nevertheless, all that day she could not get rid of her uneasiness, and with the arbitrariness of superstition linked the evening’s catastrophe with the earlier foreboding.
She had run down to the Shop, to buy some washing soda, and have a chat with Thyrza, and on her return was met in the passage by Nell, who looked at her hard and said—
“There’s someone come to see you—a Mrs. Seagrim.”
Ivy’s heart jumped. She wished that there had not been quite such a wind to blow about her hair, and that she had had time to mend the hole in her skirt that morning. If Willie’s mother had come to inspect his choice ... howsumdever, he had often spoken of his mother as a kind soul.
But the woman in the kitchen with Mrs. Beatup was only a few years older than Ivy—a tall, slim creature, with reddish hair, and a beautiful pale face. She was dressed like a lady, too, in a neat coat and skirt, with gloves and cloth-topped boots. Ivy felt the blood drain from her heart, and yet she had anticipated Mrs. Beatup with no definite thought when the latter said—
“Ivy, this is Corporal Seagrim’s wife.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Ivy heard someone say, and it must have been herself, for the next moment she was shaking hands with Mrs. Seagrim.
There was a moment’s pause, during which the two women stared at Ivy, then the corporal’s wife remarked, with a North-country accent that came startlingly from her elegance, that it was gey dirty weather.
“Thicking up fur thunder, I reckon,” said Mrs. Beatup.