"
As he came towards her she felt the mingled kindness and irritation
that he always roused in her. He stood in the light of the hall
lamp, a fat man, a soft hat pushed to the back of his head, a bag in
one hand. His face was weak and good-tempered, his eyes had once
been fine but now they were dim and blurred; there were dimples in
his fat cheeks; he wore on his upper lip a ragged and untidy
moustache and he had two indeterminate chins. His expression was
mild, kindly, now a little ashamed, now greatly indignant. It was a
pity, as he often said, that he had not more control over his
feelings. Maggie saw at once that he was, as usual, a little drunk.
"Well," she said. "Come in, Uncle. Father is in church, I think,"
she added.
Uncle Mathew stepped with careful deliberation into the hall, put
his bag on a chair, and began a long, rambling explanation.
"You know, Maggie, that I would have sent you a post card if I had
had an idea, but, upon my soul, there I was suddenly in Drymouth on
important business. I thought to myself on waking this morning--I
took a room at the 'Three Tuns'--'Why, there are Charles and Maggie
whom I haven't seen for an age.
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