 How didn't Matilda feel when Haron was talking?
The best that could be said for Matilda Penshaws was that she was something of a paradox. The fact that in all probability such a man did not exist disturbed Matilda not in the least. She had been known to say that there are over a billion men in the world, a goodly percentage of whom are eligible bachelors, and that the right one would come along simply because she had been waiting for him. She would read them carefully and then read them again, looking for the masculine names which, through a system known only to Matilda, had an affinity to her own. Matilda admired her mother's use of the word osmosis, but she found nothing which was not objectionable about being unaware of the impact of love. Matilda switched her bed lamp on and dabbed some citronella on each ear lobe and a little droplet on her chin (how she hated insects!). The name—Haron Gorka: its oddness was somehow beautiful to Matilda. Cedar Falls was a small town not fifty miles from her home, and she'd get there a hop, skip, and jump ahead of her competitors, simply by arriving in person instead of writing a letter. Matilda got out of bed at seven, tiptoed into the bathroom, showered with a merest wary trickle of water, tiptoed back into her bedroom, dressed in her very best cotton over the finest of uplifting and figure-moulding underthings, made sure her stocking seams were perfectly straight, brushed her suede shoes, admired herself in the mirror, read the ad again, wished for a moment she were a bit younger, and tiptoed downstairs. Matilda knew he would peer over his glasses and answer questions grudgingly. First place, I don't know any Haron Gorka—" Matilda kept the alarm from creeping into her voice. Matilda did, only they didn't know any Haron Gorka, either. As far us the gentry of Cedar Falls was concerned, Haron Gorka did not exist. Twenty years from now, this could be Matilda Penshaws—complete with plain gray dress, rimless spectacles, gray hair, suspicious eyes, and a broom-stick figure.... Certainly a man as well-educated as Haron Gorka would be an avid reader, and unless he had a permanent residence here in Cedar Palls, one couldn't expect that he'd have his own library with him. This being the case, a third-rate collection of books was far better than no collection at all, and perhaps the librarian would know Mr. Haron Gorka.
 enlightened
 enlightened  frustrated  surprised  confused