With a gay smile she pinned to Philip’s coat the flower she had just picked in the garden.  He blushed and felt foolish.  He knew that Miss Wilkinson was the daughter of his Uncle William’s last rector, and he had a wide acquaintance with the daughters of clergymen.  They wore ill-cut clothes and stout boots.  They were generally dressed in black, for in Philip’s early years at Blackstable homespuns had not reached East Anglia, and the ladies of the clergy did not favour colours.  Their hair was done very untidily, and they smelt aggressively of starched linen.  They considered the feminine graces unbecoming and looked the same whether they were old or young.  They bore their religion arrogantly.  The closeness of their connection with the church made them adopt a slightly dictatorial attitude to the rest of mankind.

Miss Wilkinson was very different.  She wore a white muslin gown stamped with gay little bunches of flowers, and pointed, high-heeled shoes, with open-work stockings.  To Philip’s inexperience it seemed that she was wonderfully dressed; he did not see that her frock was cheap and showy.  Her hair was elaborately dressed, with a neat curl in the middle of the forehead:  it was very black, shiny and hard, and it looked as though it could never be in the least disarranged.  She had large black eyes and her nose was slightly aquiline; in profile she had somewhat the look of a bird of prey, but full face she was prepossessing.  She smiled a great deal, but her mouth was large and when she smiled she tried to hide her teeth, which were big and rather yellow.  But what embarrassed Philip most was that she was heavily powdered:  he had very strict views on feminine behaviour and did not think a lady ever powdered; but of course Miss Wilkinson was a lady because she was a clergyman’s daughter, and a clergyman was a gentleman.

Philip made up his mind to dislike her thoroughly.  She spoke with a slight French accent; and he did not know why she should, since she had been born and bred in the heart of England.  He thought her smile affected, and the coy sprightliness of her manner irritated him.  For two or three days he remained silent and hostile, but Miss Wilkinson apparently did not notice it.  She was very affable.  She addressed her conversation almost exclusively to him, and there was something flattering in the way she appealed constantly to his sane judgment.  She made him laugh too, and Philip could never resist people who amused him:  he had a gift now and then of saying neat things; and it was pleasant to have an appreciative listener.  Neither the Vicar nor Mrs. Carey had a sense of humour, and they never laughed at anything he said.  As he grew used to Miss Wilkinson, and his shyness left him, he began to like her better; he found the French accent picturesque; and at a garden party which the doctor gave she was very much better dressed than anyone else.  She wore a blue foulard with large white spots, and Philip was tickled at the sensation it caused.