He was self-exonerated as to that, but the miserable reason for it all, in his mere existence as a male of his species, filled him with shame for himself and her, and also with anger.
He strove to hold to pity, but anger got the better of him.

Anger and shame coupled together make a balking team.

Now the man was really at a loss what to say.

Lucy sat before him with her expression of pitiable self-revelation, and waited, and Horace sat speechless.

Now he was there, he wondered what he had been such an ass as to come for.