“Ah! Yes,” said Phillotson. “The licence… It has just come.”
Gillingham now joined them from his room above, and Sue nervously made herself agreeable to him by talking on whatever she thought likely to interest him, except herself, though that interested him most of all. She obediently ate some supper, and prepared to leave for her lodging hard by. Phillotson crossed the green with her, bidding her good-night at Mrs. Edlin’s door.
The old woman accompanied Sue to her temporary quarters, and helped her to unpack. Among other things she laid out a night-gown tastefully embroidered.
“Oh—I didn’t know that was put in!” said Sue quickly. “I didn’t mean it to be. Here is a different one.” She handed a new and absolutely plain garment, of coarse and unbleached calico.
“But this is the prettiest,” said Mrs. Edlin. “That one is no better than very sackcloth o’ Scripture!”
“Yes—I meant it to be. Give me the other.”
She took it, and began rending it with all her might, the tears resounding through the house like a screech-owl.
“But my dear, dear!—whatever....”
“It is adulterous! It signifies what I don’t feel—I bought it long ago—to please Jude. It must be destroyed!”
Mrs. Edlin lifted her hands, and Sue excitedly continued to tear the linen into strips, laying the pieces in the fire.