His straight build, his height, his carriage arrested the attention and the clear cut of his cold face held it.

One of his marked suggestions was that there was unusual lack of revelation in his rather fine almond eye.

It might have revealed much but its intention was to reveal nothing but courteous detachment from all but well-bred approach to the demand of the present moment.
"I think I remember seeing you when you were a boy, Lord Coombe," the Vicar said.

"My father was rector of St.Andrews." St.Andrews was the Norman-towered church on the edge of the park enclosing Coombe Keep.
"I came to you because I also remembered that," was Coombe's reply.
Their meeting was a very quiet one.

But every incident of life was quiet in the Vicarage.