Since Easter the ten minutes had grown to fifteen or even twenty. And
twice in the last three weeks Greatorex, by collusion with Alice, had
arrived a whole hour before his time. Still, there was nothing in
this circumstance itself to alarm the Vicar. Choir practice was choir
practice, a mysterious thing he never interfered with, knowing himself
to be unmusical.
Rowcliffe had had good reason for refusing to urge Greatorex to marry
Essy Gale. But what he had seen in Garth church made him determined to
say something to Greatorex, after all.
He went on his northerly round the very next Sunday and timed it
so that he overtook his man on his way home from church. He gave
Greatorex a lift with the result (which he had calculated) that
Greatorex gave him dinner, as he had done once or twice before. The
after-dinner pipe made Jim peculiarly approachable, and Rowcliffe
approached him suddenly and directly. "I say, Greatorex, why don't you
marry? Not a bad thing for you, you know."
"Ay. Saw they tall me," said Greatorex amicably.
Rowcliffe went on to advise his marrying Essy, not on the grounds of
morality or of justice to the girl (he was a tactful person), but on
Greatorex's account, as the best thing Greatorex could do for himself.
"Yo mane," said Greatorex, "I ought to marry her?"
Rowcliffe said no, he wasn't going into that.
Greatorex was profoundly thoughtful.
Presently he said that he would speak to Essy.
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