'I beg your pardon,' coming towards me and speaking in the deep peculiar voice I had already heard.

'I was hunting for the matches that Cunliffe always mislays.

You are Miss Garston, are you not?
I was told to expect you.' And then he actually shook hands with me in an off-hand way.
I am not generally devoid of presence of mind, but at that moment I behaved as awkwardly as a school-girl.

If I could only have thought of some excuse for leaving him,--an errand or a message to Mrs.Drabble; but no form of words would occur to me.

I could only mutter an apology for my abrupt entrance, and ask after Uncle Max, stammering with confusion all the time, and then take the chair he was placing for me, while he renewed his search for the match-box.
'Oh, Cunliffe has only gone down to the village to post his letters: he will be back in a few minutes.