"I—" began the Rector and stopped. He perceived that the situation could easily be complicated.
"I must just think about it quietly," went on the girl. "And I must write a note to say so.... Father ..."
He glanced in her direction.
"Father, about being fond of a man.... Need it be—well, as I was fond of Frank? I don't think Lord Talgarth could have expected that, could he? But if you—well—get on with a man very well, understand him—can stand up to him without annoying him ... and ... and care for him, really, I mean, in such a way that you like being with him very much, and look up to him very much in all kinds of ways—(I'm very sorry to have to talk like this, but whom am I to talk to, father dear?) Well, if I found I did care for Lord Talgarth like that—like a sort of daughter, or niece, and more than that too, would that—"
"I don't know," said the Rector, abruptly standing up. "I don't know; you mustn't ask me. You must settle all that yourself."
She looked up at him, startled, it seemed, by the change in his manner.
"Father, dear—" she began, with just the faintest touch of pathetic reproach in her voice. But he did not appear moved by it.
"You must settle," he said. "You have all the data. I haven't. I—"
He stepped towards the door.
"Tell me as soon as you have decided," he said, and went out.