“Yes,” I sighed and we sat down.

He said seriously: “I think we have to do something, Davina.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Your people don’t know you are meeting me.”

“Good heavens, no. My father would think it was quite improper to pick up an acquaintance in the street.”

“Well, what are we going to do about it? I want to call at your house. I don’t like this hole-and-corner business.”

“I don’t like it either. I agree with you. They could discover sooner or later. So far we have kept our meetings secret … but one of the servants might see us … and there would be talk. They would all be wondering who you are and why you don’t call at the house.”

“Davina, do you think it is possible to fall in love in a short time?”

“I think I do,” I answered.

He turned to me and took my hands. We laughed together happily.

“I’d have to pass exams and get out of the University before we could marry,” he said.

“Of course.”

“So would you … will you?”

“I think it would be wonderful,” I said. “But do you know me well enough?”

“I know all I want to know about you. Haven’t we talked and talked … as much in these few weeks as people do in years?”

“Yes, we have.”

“And isn’t that enough?”

“It’s enough for me. I was wondering about you.”

He kissed me then. I withdrew, embarrassed. It was not the kind of behaviour expected on a seat in public gardens in mid-morning.

“People will be shocked!” I said.

“Who cares?”

“Not us,” I said recklessly.

“Then we’re engaged?”

A voice broke in on us. “Davina!”

Zillah was coming towards us. She stood there, her green eyes glowing, her reddish hair bright under a black hat. She looked very elegant in her black coat with the green scarf at her neck.

She was smiling at Jamie. “Please introduce us.”

“This is James North and … er … this is my stepmother.”

She put her face close to his and whispered: “But we don’t usually mention that. I am conceited enough to think I don’t look the part.”

“No … no,” stammered Jamie. “Of course you don’t.”

“May I sit down?”

“Please do,” said Jamie.

She was between us. “You two seem to be good friends.”

“We met while you were away,” I said. “I wandered into the old town and got lost in the wynds. Mr. North rescued me and showed me the way to go home.”

“How interesting! And you became friends.”

“We were both enormously interested in the city,” said Jamie.

“I’m not surprised. It’s fascinating … historically and otherwise.”

I was surprised. She cared nothing about the city. “Mary Mary, Hanover Squarey.” I could hear her singing.

“Well,” she went on. “So you are good friends … apparently. That’s very nice.” She smiled beguilingly at Jamie. “I daresay my stepdaughter has told you all about me.”

“All?” I said.

“Well, I daresay she has mentioned that I have lately come into the family.”

“She did mention it,” said Jamie. “I know you have recently come from your honeymoon in Venice and Paris.”

“Venice! What an enchanting place. Those fascinating canals. The Rialto. Full of wonderful treasures. Paris, too …the Louvre and all that history … Davina, why do you not invite Mr. North to come to the house?”

“Well, I didn’t think … I didn’t know …”

“Oh, you foolish girl! I’m very cross, Mr. North, that I have not met you earlier. Davina has been keeping you to herself. You must meet my husband. He will be delighted to meet you. What about tomorrow evening? Come to dinner. Are you free? Oh … good. It won’t be a big party. Just the four of us. Do say you’ll come.”

Jamie said: “I should like that very much.”

“Wonderful!”

She sat back on the seat and I saw she intended to stay until I left. She talked a great deal with animation and much laughter. Jamie joined in. I was longing to ask him what he thought of her.

Moreover I was a little dismayed to have been so discovered, and also faintly annoyed. She had broken into a moment when we desperately wanted to talk about ourselves.

IT WAS AN UNEASY MEAL. Jamie was clearly a little overwhelmed by the formality. I imagined meals were very different in the manse. My father’s dignified appearance and cool manner did not help.

He was polite. He thanked Jamie for rescuing me when I was lost and asked a great many questions about his studies and his home.

“You must find Edinburgh quite different from your little country village.”

Jamie admitted that he did and that he was quite fascinated by the city.

“Mr. North is doing a thesis on the city,” I said. “It means delving into history.”

“Very interesting,” said my father. “And you were brought up in the manse and your parents are still there?” he went on.

Jamie confirmed this. It was all very stiff and stilted.

Zillah, of course, introduced a light note into the evening and I was glad of her help.

She talked about Venice and Paris, to neither of which places Jamie or I had ever been; but she was so pleasant to him and did her best to make him feel that he was a welcome guest, which softened the ordeal to which my father appeared to be subjecting him.

I knew it was more serious than it appeared to be and that my father was very disapproving of the acquaintance.

He would be thinking that it was very remiss of me to talk to a stranger in the street. I suppose if one had lost one’s way there might be some excuse for doing so; but the proper procedure after that would have been for the rescuer to have taken me back to my home and called the next day to enquire how I was. Then it would have been for my family to decide whether he was worthy to be invited to the house to resume his acquaintance with me.

Jamie was clearly pleased when the ordeal was over and when I asked him what he thought about the meeting he replied: “I don’t think your father approves of me. He doesn’t know, of course, that we are engaged and what his reaction to that will be I can well imagine.”

“I don’t care what he says.”

“Well … I think it would be better for us to say nothing as yet. I am sure he has not reckoned on having the penniless son of a manse as his son-in-law.”

“It is something to which he will have to grow accustomed.”

“He is the sort of man who would want everything according to convention.”

Inwardly I laughed. I thought of Zillah, selected by him, creeping along to his bedroom. I said nothing. But I would remember it if he ever reproached me for unconventional behaviour.

“So,” went on Jamie, “for the moment we’d better plan in secret.”

I knew he was right and we had a wonderful time talking about the future.

He did say during the course of that conversation: “That stepmother of yours … she’s quite different, isn’t she?”

“Different from what?”

“From your father. She’s jolly. Good fun. I don’t think she would be cluttered by conventions. Do you know, I had a feeling that she would be on our side.”

“I never know with her. I have a feeling she is not all she seems.”

“Who of us is?”

We parted with a promise to meet in two days’ time.

Before I saw him again, Mr. Alastair McCrae, who had been a widower for five years, came to dine.

He was between thirty-five and forty, tall, upright and quite good-looking. He was a colleague of my father; and I knew he was wealthy for he had a private income and there was a family estate not far from Aberdeen.

I had seen him once some years before when he had come to the house to dine. I, of course, had not been present at the dinner party, but I had taken a peep through the banisters and seen him arrive with his wife who had been alive at that time.

My mother had mentioned him to me. “Your father has a high respect for Mr. McCrae. He comes of a very good family and I believe the estate he owns is very large.”

I was interested to see the gentleman with the large estate and I must have been quite unimpressed because all thought of the gentleman went out of my mind until the recent mention of his name.

Zillah said: “This is going to be a rather special dinner party. You know that dress I bought for you in Paris? It’s most becoming. Your father has asked me to make sure you are presentable.”

“Why should he be interested in what / look like?”

“Well, you are his daughter and he wants you to grace the dinner party with me.” She grimaced. “Between us, my dear, we’ll open this fine gentleman’s eyes.”

There were two other guests, my father’s solicitor and his wife; and rather to my surprise I was seated next to Alastair McCrae at dinner. He was quite attentive and we talked pleasantly together. He told me about his estate near Aberdeen and how he liked to escape to it whenever possible.

“It sounds delightful,” I said.

He then told me how much land he owned and it seemed considerable. The house itself was quite ancient. “It needs propping up from time to time,” he said, “but what ancient house doesn’t? The McCraes have been there for four centuries.”

“How exciting!”

“I should like to show it to you one day. Perhaps we could arrange something.”

My father was smiling quite benignly at me.

“Davina is very interested in the past,” he said. “History has always fascinated her.”

“There is plenty of that here,” said Alastair McCrae.

“There’s plenty of it everywhere,” I said.