Thus within twenty-four hours Geoffrey received no less than three
appeals to help the woman whom he loved to the arms of a distasteful
husband. No wonder then that he grew almost superstitious about the
matter.
CHAPTER XXII
A NIGHT OF STORM
That afternoon the whole Vicarage party walked up to the farm to inspect
another litter of young pigs. It struck Geoffrey, remembering former
editions, that the reproductive powers of Mr. Granger's old sow were
something little short of marvellous, and he dreamily worked out a
calculation of how long it would take her and her progeny to produce a
pig to every square yard of the area of plucky little Wales. It seemed
that the thing could be done in six years, which was absurd, so he gave
up calculating.
He had no words alone with Beatrice that afternoon. Indeed, a certain
coldness seemed to have sprung up between them. With the almost
supernatural quickness of a loving woman's intuition, she had divined
that something was passing in his mind, inimical to her most vital
interests, so she shunned his company, and received his conventional
advances with a politeness which was as cold as it was crushing.
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