Turf or Stone Read Online Free Page B

window. Behind her there were hints of easy forms reclining in coloured cane chairs, cigarette smoke floating lightly up to the ceiling. These sights interested him, but now his errand seemed ridiculous. He hesitated: ‘What, frightened of the women? Shall I stand here and wait till she comes out and then hand her the prayer book? No, I’ll go in. I’ll buy a bag of doughnuts for the children!’ His face lightened at the thought; he pushed the door open. A woman in furs was coming out, with a little veil dropping from her hat over half her face. Beneath, her painted mouth was parted. He stood aside to let her pass, and she was so close to him that he smelt a sweet dusty perfume, and saw the line of rouge along her lips. She turned her head over her shoulder, smiled at him, simply and gaily. This farther encouraged him, and he entered without awkwardness.
    While the fragile ladylike waitress piled doughnuts into the bag with surprisingly thick fingers, he looked around the room for Mary.
    She was sitting at a small table in the corner, drinking coffee, and holding a cigarette in her drooping hand. She looked cold and pale, with dry lips and heavy eyes. The carter regarded her, sighed, and took his doughnuts absently:he drew the prayer book from his pocket and, going across to her, laid it on the table beside her plate as the best means of indicating his presence and the reason for it.
    She glanced up, astonished at the sight of her book and the rough hand on the tablecloth, and recognised the carter who had taken a pace backwards. She smiled. This man was now her equal. Such folk would be the only ones to cross her threshold. Formerly she would hardly have acknowledged a good day from this labourer, least of all in front of gentlefolk – of whom she had always considered herself – now she was almost effusive. She wanted familiarity that she might press the insult close like a corrosive iron upon her tenderness, and burn away all feeling – once and for all.
    She spoke loudly and easily. Everyone could hear.
    ‘Have some coffee with me?’
    He shook his head, and peered at the bag in his hands on which warm grease stains were appearing.
    ‘No, thank you. No, thank you, miss.’
    ‘Oh, you must!’
    ‘I must be off. I picked that up in the cart this morning after you’d gone. It’s a pity the ewes ’ud trod on it. I’m sorry.’
    ‘That’s nothing,’ she touched the soiled leather cover, and for a second or two seemed to forget his presence. Her fingers smoothed the dog-eared leaves. He would have gone away silently. He was out of place here – it would be better to return to The George.
    ‘Tell me your name.’
    ‘Dallett, miss… William Dallett. I works over at Gillow. Good afternoon, miss.’
    ‘Don’t go. Please sit down, and have some coffee with me.’
    She saw that he was puzzled and for the first time it occurred to her that she might be making him look a fool, might be hurting him. Several people were regarding them. Immobile from bewilderment and fright he repeated that he must be going.
    ‘Sit down, please. Or won’t you have anything to do with me?’
    He hastily sat down, but refused everything she offered him, nor would he open his mouth. Mary continued to smoke. She pushed the packet of cigarettes towards him.
    ‘Would you like to please me… would you? Then take those cigarettes.’
    Dallett was more abashed than ever: ‘I don’t want to rob you, miss.’
    ‘There… I don’t want them. Put them in your pocket.’
    He did so.
    ‘Thank you, miss.’
    ‘Don’t call me “miss”. I was married this morning.’
    He gaped.
    ‘I hope you’ll be very happy.’
    She felt a thrill of anguish. She spread her smooth hands on the table.
    ‘Look!’
    ‘Why, where’s the ring?’
    ‘My husband married me with an old worthless one of his which he took away as soon as we left the church. What do you think of that?’
    ‘Tchach!’ the carter ejaculated contemptuously. The waitress