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. I hope you're well."

Maggie realised then the terrified distress in Grace's eyes. The grey
stocking had fallen to the ground, and Grace stared at Uncle Mathew in
a kind of fascinated horror. She realised of course at once that he was
what she would call "tipsy." He was not "tipsy," but nevertheless
"tipsy" enough for Grace. Maggie saw her take in every detail of his
appearance--his unshaven cheeks, the wisps of hair over the bald top of
his head, the spots on his waistcoat, the mud on his boots, and again
as she watched Grace make this summary, love and protection for that
unhappy man filled her heart. For unhappy he was! She saw at once that
he had had a long slide downhill since his last visit to her. He was
frightened--frightened immediately now of Grace and the room and the
physical world--but frightened also behind these things at some spectre
all his own. Grace sat down and tried to recover herself. She began to
talk in her society voice. Maggie knew that she was praying, over and
over again, with a monotony possible only to the very stupid, that
there would be no callers that afternoon.

"And so you know Glebeshire, Mr. Cardinal! Fancy! I've never been
there--never been there in my life. Fancy that! Although so many of my
relations live there. I once nearly went down, one wet Christmas, and I
was going to stay with my aunt, but something happened to prevent me. I
think I caught a cold at the time. I can't quite remember. But fancy
you knowing Glebeshire so well!"

All this came out in a voice that might have issued from a gramophone,
so little did it represent Grace's real feelings or emotions. Maggie
knew so well that inside her head these exclamations were rising and
falling: "What a horrible man! What a dreadful man! Maggie's uncle!
We're lost if any one calls! Oh! I do hope no one calls!"

It was obvious meanwhile that Mathew was urgently wishing for a moment
alone with Maggie. He looked at her w