He walked somewhat like a somnambulist, with eyes fixed--almost expressionless in the intensity of their gaze.
He was very plainly, even poorly clad, and looked a dark figure even amongst these soberly appareled gentry.

The grass beneath his feet had deadened the sound of his footsteps but Sir Marmaduke had apparently perceived him, for he beckoned to him to approach.
"What is it, Lambert ?" he asked kindly.
"Your letter to Master Skyffington, Sir Marmaduke," replied the young man, "will you be pleased to sign it ?" "Will it not keep ?" said Sir Marmaduke.
"Yes, an you wish it, Sir.

I fear I have intruded.

I did not know you were busy." The young man had a harsh voice, and a strange brusqueness of manner which somehow suggested rebellion against the existing conditions of life.

He no longer looked at Lady Sue now, but straight at Sir Marmaduke, speaking the brief apology between his teeth, without opening his mouth, as if the words hurt him when they passed his lips.
"You had best speak to Master Skyffington himself about the business," rejoined Sir Marmaduke, not heeding the mumbled apology, "he will be here anon." He turned abruptly away, and the young man once more left to himself, silently and mechanically moved again in the direction of the house.
"You will join us in a bowl of sack-posset, Master Lambert," said Mistress de Chavasse, striving to be amiable.
"You are very kind," he said none too genially, "in about half-an-hour if you will allow me.