True, Walter came to Glencardine nearly every day, but she managed to avoid him whenever possible.

Why?
Because she knew her own weakness; she feared being compelled by his stronger nature, and by the true affection in which she held him, to confess.

They walked together in the cool, shady glen beside the rippling burn, climbed the neighbouring hills, played tennis, or else she lay in the hammock at the edge of the lawn while he lounged at her side smoking cigarettes.

She did all this because she was compelled.
Her most enjoyable hours were the quiet ones spent at Her father's side.
Alone in the library, she read to him, in French, those curious business documents which came so often by registered post.

They were so strangely worded that, not knowing their true import, she failed to understand them.