I must confess that I was just a little puzzled by his exuberant welcome.

And, to judge by the blank expression that flitted momentarily over her face, so was his mother.
If he were so delighted by my visit, why had he not crossed the lawn at once as soon as he saw the car?
Why had he sent his mother on ahead?
I was haunted by an exchange of words overheard in imagination: "Confound the fellow! What has he come here for ?" "Mary will say 'not at home.'" "But he has spotted us.

Do go and get rid of him." "Such an old friend, dear." "We haven't time for old fossils.

Tell him to go and bury himself." And (in my sensitive fancy) she had delivered the import of the message.

I had gathered that my visit was ill-timed.