She made a sign for him to resume his seat; but as she herself stood erect in front of the fire, which in spite of the warmth of the day still burned on the hearth, he preferred to remain on his feet. Like a flash he thought to himself, “Can my father have actually embraced this extraordinary person?” And then he thought to himself: “The poor woman! Why, she can’t be able to meet a single stranger anywhere without giving them a shock like this.” But he had already begun speaking quietly and naturally to her, even while he was thinking these things.

“I knew you would know who I was,” he said gently. “I’ve just been invited down here. I’m going to do some work⁠—I can’t tell you quite what it is⁠—out at King’s Barton. I’m going to drive over there this afternoon; but I thought I would come and see you first.”

While she listened to him, he noticed that she kept pulling her white woollen shawl tighter and tighter round her black silk dress. The effect of this was to give her the appearance of someone caught unawares in some sort of fancy costume⁠—some costume that rendered her ashamed and even ridiculous.