and had lain crumpled disastrously in his hand-bag) accentuating the
undue roundness of his limbs; his eyes blinked and his mouth
trembled a little at the corners. He was obviously afraid of his
sister and flung his niece a watery wink as though to implore her
silence as to his various misdemeanours.

Brother and sister shook hands, and Maggie, as she watched them, was
surprised to feel within herself a certain sympathy with her uncle.
Aunt Anne's greeting was gentle and kind but infinitely distant, and
had something of the tenderness with which the Pope washes the feet
of the beggars in Rome.

"I'm so glad that you were here," she said in her soft voice. "It
must have been such a comfort to Maggie."

"He has been, indeed, Aunt Anne," Maggie broke in eagerly.

Her uncle looked at her with great surprise; after his behaviour of
last night he had not expected this. Reassured, he began a voluble
explanation of his movements and plans, rubbing his hands together
and turning one boot against the other.

He had a great deal to say, because he had seen neither of his
sisters for a very long time. Then he wished to make a good
impression because Maggie, the heiress, would be of importance now.
What an idiot he had been last night. What had he done? He could
remember nothing. It was evident that it had been nothing very bad--
Maggie bore him no grudge--good girl, Maggie. He felt affectionate
towards her and would have told her so had her aunt not been
present. These thoughts underlay his rambling history. He was aware