No doubt the best thing to do was to tell him to his face that she would not have him. He would not be the first chap she had told this, but Ivy had an unaccountable shrinking from repeating the process with Jerry. There was in him a subtle essence, a mystifying quality—perhaps it was no more than the power of a sharper life and death—which made him different from the other lads she knew, and struck terror into her country soul. He was the first man she had been ever so little afraid of. Ivy had the least imagination of all the Beatups. That spark which sent Nell to the church, and Harry to the woods, which made Tom feel more than roots and clay in the earth on which he trod, and Zacky sometimes almost think himself a British army corps, even that little spark had never flickered up in Ivy’s honest heart. Her world was made of things she could taste and see and hear and smell and handle, and very good things she found them. She resented the presence in her life of something which responded to none of these tests. Jerry’s love for her was “queer,” just as Jerry himself was “queer,” and Ivy did not like “queer” things. When the long-dreaded leave came at last, it took her by surprise. She had not heard from Jerry for a week, and one morning, having run to the pillar-box at the throws, with some letters for her soldier friends, on her return she met Mr. Sumption, waving his arms and cracking his joints and shouting to her even from beyond earshot, that Jerry was coming home that evening. “A letter came this morning. Maybe you’ve got one too?” Ivy shook her head, and Mr. Sumption tried to disguise his pleasure at being the only one to hear. “He’s a good boy, Jerry—never forgets his father. But he wants to see you though, Ivy. Maybe you’d come and have supper with us this evening?” “I’m unaccountable sorry, but I’m going up to Senlac town.” “That’s a pity. Perhaps you’ll come another day?” “If I’ve time, Mus’ Sumption—but I’m justabout vrothered these days wud the harvesters here. Thank you kindly though, all the same.” She had been sidling away as she spoke, and now walked off with a brisk “Good mornun.” She was sorry to have to disappoint Mr. Sumption, whom she liked and pitied; but there was no good letting him think she had any use for Jerry. Before going home she ran down the drive to Little Worge, and told Polly Sinden she was at all costs and risks to come with her to Senlac that evening.