If he had continued to meet her regularly he would almost certainly have married her.

She on her side seemed well disposed towards him.

As it was he never saw her again.

He gradually ceased to think of her, except on summer evenings, as a charming possibility which Fate had sternly removed, as one lost to him for ever.

He wrote a little poem about her, beginning, "Where are you now ?" (She was at Kensington all the time.) Wentworth never published his verses.