She's in quite absurdly good spirits for some unknown reason." The Rector chuckled.
"Perhaps a gallant rescuer was added to the experience, eh ?" he said.
"Perhaps so," replied his daughter, faintly smiling as she proceeded to pour out the coffee.
Jean Stair was a typical English country girl, strictly tailor-made in her appearance, with a predisposition towards stiff linen collars and neat ties.

In figure she was slight almost to boyishness and she had no pretensions whatever to good looks, but there was nevertheless something frank and wholesome and sweet about her--something of the charm of a nice boy--that counterbalanced her undeniable plainness.

As she had once told Diana: "I'm not beautiful, so I'm obliged to be good.
You're not compelled, by the same necessity, and I may yet see you sliding down the primrose path, whereas I shall inevitably end my days in the odour of sanctity--probably a parish worker to some celibate vicar!" The Rector and Joan were half-way through their breakfast when a light step sounded in the hall outside, and a minute later the door flew open to admit Diana.
"Good morning, dear people," she exclaimed gaily.

"Am I late?
It looks like it from the devastated appearance of the bacon dish.

Pobs, you've eaten all the breakfast!" And, she dropped, a light kiss on the top of the Rector's head.