I saw him at the Markdale picnic two years ago.

He's very fat and bald and red-faced, but I've seen far worse looking men." "I'm afraid your seat is too near the stove, Aunt Eliza," shouted Felicity.
Our guest, whose face was certainly very much flushed, shook her head.
"Oh, no, I'm very comfortable," she said.

But her voice had the effect of making us uncomfortable.

There was a queer, uncertain little sound in it.

Was Great-aunt Eliza laughing at us?
We looked at her sharply but her face was very solemn.