Round the corner again Sir James Maiden and Bee Pendyce (the eldest daughter) were talking of horses and hunting—­Bee seldom from choice spoke of anything else.  Her face was pleasant and good, yet not quite pretty, and this little fact seemed to have entered into her very nature, making her shy and ever willing to do things for others.

Sir James had small grey whiskers and a carved, keen visage.  He came of an old Kentish family which had migrated to Cambridgeshire; his coverts were exceptionally fine; he was also a Justice of the Peace, a Colonel of Yeomanry, a keen Churchman, and much feared by poachers.  He held the reactionary views already mentioned, being a little afraid of Lady Malden.

Beyond Miss Pendyce sat the Reverend Hussell Barter, who would shoot to-morrow, but would not attend the race-meeting on Wednesday.

The Rector of Worsted Skeynes was not tall, and his head had been rendered somewhat bald by thought.  His broad face, of very straight build from the top of the forehead to the base of the chin, was well-coloured, clean-shaven, and of a shape that may be seen in portraits of the Georgian era.  His cheeks were full and folded, his lower lip had a habit of protruding, and his eyebrows jutted out above his full, light eyes.  His manner was authoritative, and he articulated his words in a voice to which long service in the pulpit had imparted remarkable carrying-power—­in fact, when engaged in private conversation, it was with difficulty that he was not overheard.  Perhaps even in confidential matters he was not unwilling that what he said should bear fruit.  In some ways, indeed, he was typical.  Uncertainty, hesitation, toleration—­except of such opinions as he held—­he did not like.  Imagination he distrusted.  He found his duty in life very clear, and other people’s perhaps clearer, and he did not encourage his parishioners to think for themselves.  The habit seemed to him a dangerous one.  He was outspoken in his opinions, and when he had occasion to find fault, spoke of the offender as “a man of no character,” “a fellow like that,” with such a ring of conviction that his audience could not but be convinced of the immorality of that person.  He had a bluff jolly way of speaking, and was popular in his parish—­a good cricketer, a still better fisherman, a fair shot, though, as he said, he could not really afford time for shooting.  While disclaiming interference in secular matters, he watched the tendencies of his flock from a sound point of view, and especially encouraged them to support the existing order of things—­the British Empire and the English Church.  His cure was hereditary, and he fortunately possessed some private means, for he had a large family.  His partner at dinner was Norah, the younger of the two Pendyce girls, who had a round, open face, and a more decided manner than her sister Bee.