She had been obliged to leave the table just when it was becoming most
characteristic and convivial, and to retire forlorn and chilly in her
silken gown to the Woolpack parlour, where she and the landlady drank
innumerable cups of tea. It was an unwelcome reminder of the fact that
she was a woman, and that no matter how she might shine and impress the
company for an hour, she did not really belong to it. She was a guest,
not a member, of the Farmers' Club, and though a guest has more honour,
he has less fellowship and fun. It was for fellowship and fun that she
hungrily longed as she sat under the green lamp-shade of the Woolpack's
parlour, and discoursed on servants and the price of turkeys with Mrs.
Jupp, who was rather constrained and absent-minded owing to her
simultaneous efforts to price Miss Godden's gown. Now and then a dull
roar of laughter came to her from the Club room. What were they talking
about, Joanna wondered. Had there been much debate over her remarks on
breaking pasture?...
Sec.6
On the whole, the Farmers' Club Dinner left behind it a rankling
trail--for one thing, it was not followed as she had hoped and half
expected by an invitation to join the Farmers' Club. No, they would
never have a woman privileged among them--she realized that, in spite of
her success, certain doors would always be shut on her. The men would
far rather open those doors ceremonially now and then than allow her to
go freely in and out. After all, perhaps they were right--hadn't she got
her own rooms that they were shut out of?... Women were always
different from men, even if they did the same things ... she had heard
people talk of "woman's sphere." What did that mean? A husband and
children, of course--any fool could tell you that. When you had a
husband and children you didn't go round knocking at the men's doors,
but shut yourself up snugly inside your own ... you were warm and cosy,
and the firelight played on the ceiling.... But if you were alone inside
your room--with no husband or child to keep you company ... then it was
terrible, worse than being outside ... and no wonder you went round to
the men's doors, and knocked on them and begged them to give you a
little company, or something to do to help you to forget your empty
room....
"Well, I could marry Arthur Alce any day I liked," she thought to
herself.
But somehow that did not seem any solution to the problem.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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