"
In another minute they had arrived. Geoffrey shook hands with Beatrice,
and was introduced to Owen Davies, who murmured something in reply, and
promptly took his departure.
They examined the canoe together, and then walked slowly up to the
Vicarage, Beatrice holding Effie by the hand. Opposite the reef they
halted for a minute.
"There is the Table Rock on which we were thrown, Mr. Bingham," said
Beatrice, "and here is where they carried us ashore. The sea does not
look as though it would drown any one to-night, does it? See!"--and she
threw a stone into it--"the ripples run as evenly as they do on a pond."
She spoke idly and Geoffrey answered her idly, for they were not
thinking of their words. Rather were they thinking of the strange chance
that had brought them together in an hour of deadly peril and now left
them together in an hour of peace. Perhaps, too, they were wondering to
what end this had come about. For, agnostics, atheists or believers, are
we not, most of us, fatalists at heart?
CHAPTER XII
THE WRITING ON THE SAND
Geoffrey found himself very comfortable at the Vicarage, and as for
Effie, she positively revelled in it.
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