Meanwhile the child's father and Beatrice would talk--not about
religion, they spoke no more on that subject, nor about Owen Davies,
but of everything else on earth. Beatrice was a merry woman when she was
happy, and they never lacked subjects of conversation, for their minds
were very much in tune. In book-learning Beatrice had the advantage of
Geoffrey, for she had not only read enormously, she also remembered what
she read and could apply it. Her critical faculty, too, was very keen.
He, on the other hand, had more knowledge of the world, and in his rich
days had travelled a good deal, and so it came to pass that each could
always find something to tell the other. Never for one second were they
dull, not even when they sat for an hour or so in silence, for it was
the silence of complete companionship.
So the long morning would wear away all too quickly, and they would go
in to dinner, to be greeted with a cold smile by Elizabeth and heartily
enough by the old gentleman, who never thought of anything out of his
own circle of affairs. After dinner it was the same story.
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