He was badly shaved, his blue suit was shabby and soiled. He was
fatter, and his whole body was flabby and uncared for. Maggie saw at
once that he had been drinking, not very much, but enough to make
him a little uncertain on his feet and unsteady in his gaze. Maggie,
when she saw him, felt nothing but a rush of pity and desire to
protect him. Very strangely she felt the similarity between him and
herself. Nobody wanted either of them--they must just love one
another because there was no one else to love them.
She was aware then that Grace had risen and was standing looking at
them both.
She turned round to her saying, "Grace, this is my uncle. You've
heard me speak of him, haven't you? He was very kind to me when I
was a little girl . . . Uncle, this is my sister-in-law, Miss
Trenchard."
Uncle Mathew smiled and, rather unsteadily, came forward; he caught
her hand in both his damp, hot ones. "Very pleased to meet you, Miss
Trenchard. I know you've been very good to my little Maggie; at
least when I say 'my little Maggie' she's not mine any longer. She
belongs to your brother now, doesn't she? Of course she does.
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