“Too wicked!” said Geoffrey. “Mind too much taken up with other things.”
“Too much bent upon laying up treasure upon earth, Trethick, thinking too little of the treasure in heaven.”
“I thought you said that you were going to talk to me like a man of the world,” said Geoffrey, sharply.
“Yes, yes—I am,” was the hasty reply, for the vicar saw that a few more words in the same strain would send his companion away.
“Go on then. You said you were heart-sick,” said Geoffrey. “What’s the matter?”
“I am in a great deal of trouble, Trethick,” said the vicar, heavily. “I’m not a man of the world, but you are, and—and—I like you, Trethick, I don’t know why, but I wish we were better friends.”
“You like me?” said Geoffrey, laughing. “Why, my good sir, you and I are like positive and negative poles; we repel one another.”
“But why should we, Trethick? You seem always to exercise a strange power over me. I did not like you at first.”
“No,” said Geoffrey. “I was too rough and outspoken; too irreligious. I shocked you.”
“Yes, yes. That is true,” said the vicar.