But he knew that he was not being quite truthful with himself. He could have continued to enjoy the holiday in London, though there was no question of the fact that he longed to be in his own parish. He could have continued to develop his acquaintance with Miss Barnes. Indeed he had done so to a very limited extent. No, it was his uneasiness and perplexity over Lady Rachel that had kept him at home when he would normally have been out with Algie. He had avoided meeting her whenever possible.

It had not always been possible. She had been at the opera one evening with a party that included Lord Stanford, and he had felt obliged to accompany Algie to her box during an interval to pay his respects. And she had been walking in the park with Algie one afternoon when he was there with Miss Barnes. The four of them had ended up walking together. But apart from those two occasions, he had not set eyes on her for two weeks.

He did not know quite why he felt uneasy. After all, nothing had happened during that meeting at the garden party. Nothing at all. They had talked and laughed together, and he had taken her to tea. That was all.

But the trouble was, that was not all by any means. He had seen a different side to Lady Rachel Palmer there at the stream. She had not been her usual self, brightly sociable, chattering on about trivialities. She had been enjoying her solitude, enjoying it utterly, with no regard for her appearance, and with no concern for what she might be missing at the party. It was as if she had put off a mask. Even when she had seen him, there had been no trace of flirtatiousness in her manner or conversation. And paradoxically he had found her quite enchanting.