It was characteristic of the vicar’s warm, expansive nature that he found enjoyment in all goodly things; and he never attempted to hide the pleasure the sight of a beautiful woman gave him, although, as in the present instance, he remembered his cloth in the expression of it.
“She is very handsome,” said Vernon, whose candor went a step further than his brother’s.
“And amiable?”
“By that one means sympathetic to oneself, I suppose. Yes, I find her amiable,” said the younger man, with a sort of dogged defiance in his tone.
“Then you are pretty intimate already?”
The vicar spoke without the least harshness, but the answer came in an almost sullen tone, as if Vernon’s own conscience were reproaching him.
“Not very. This is the fourth time I have met her.”
“But, dear me, with these sweet-faced girls, one gets over the ground so fast!” suggested the elder more genially than ever.
“That depends. There’s not much about me to fascinate a beautiful woman.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that: I certainly did not mean that. But we had looked upon you—you had taught us to look upon you—as a confirmed bachelor; almost a misogynist.”