Maud was sitting near the window when the two came in.  She got up and came quickly forward, with a smile, and shook hands with Howard.  She had just the same look of virginal freshness and sweetness in the morning light—­a little less mysterious, perhaps; but there came upon Howard a strange feeling, partly of intense admiration, partly a sort of half-jealousy that he should know so little of the girl’s past, and a half-terror of all other influences and relations in the unknown background of her life.  He wanted to know whom and what she cared about, what her hopes were, what her thoughts rested upon and concerned themselves with.  He had never felt any such emotion before, and it was not wholly agreeable to him.  He felt thrown off his balance, interfered with, diverted from his normal course.  He wanted to do and say something which could claim her attention and confidence; and the frank and almost sisterly regard she gave him was not wholly to his mind.  This was mingled, too, with a certain fear of he knew not what; he feared her criticism, her disapproval; he felt his own dulness and inelasticity.  He seemed to himself empty, heavy, awkward, disconcerted by her quiet and expectant gaze.  This came and went like a flash, and gave him an almost physical uneasiness.

“Well, here we are,” said the Vicar.  “I must say this is very comfortable—­a sort of family council, with matters of importance to discuss.”  Maud led the way to the dining-room.  “I said we would have everything put on the table,” said the Vicar, “and wait on ourselves; that will leave us quite free to talk.  It’s not a lack of any respect, Howard—­quite the contrary; but these honest people down here pick up all sorts of gossip—­in a quiet life, you know, a little gossip goes a long way; and even my good maids are human—­I should be so in their place!  Howard, a bit of this chicken—­our own chickens, our own vegetables, our country cider—­everything home-grown; and now to business, and we will settle Master Jack in a turn.  My own belief is, in choosing a profession, to think of all possibilities and eliminate them one by one.”

“Yes,” said Howard, “but we are met by this initial difficulty; that one might settle a dozen professions for Jack, and there is not the smallest guarantee that he would choose any of them.  I think he will take his own line.  I never knew anyone who knew so definitely what he intended to do, and what he did not intend to do!”

“You have hit it,” said the Vicar, “and I do not think you could have said anything which could please me more.  He is independent; it is my own temperament over again!  You will forgive a touch of vanity, Howard, but that is me all over.  And that simplifies our plan of action very considerably, you know!”

“Yes,” said Howard, “it undoubtedly does.  I have no doubt from what Jack told me that he intends to make money.  It isn’t, in him, just the vague desire to have the command of money, which most young men have.  I have to talk over their careers with a good many young men, and it generally ends in their saying they would like a secretaryship, which would give them interesting work and long holidays and the command of much of their time, and lead on to something better, with a prospect of early retirement on a pension.”