In four minutes he was hammering on the front door of the new house. Maggie opened, in alarm. Edwin did not see how alarmed she was by his appearance.
“What—”
“Father thinks I’ve been stealing his damned money!” Edwin snapped, in a breaking voice. The statement was not quite accurate, but it suited his boiling anger to put it in the present tense instead of in the past. He hesitated an instant in the hall, throwing a look behind at Maggie, who stood entranced with her hand on the latch of the open door. Then he bounded upstairs, and shut himself in his room with a tremendous bang that shook the house. He wanted to cry, but he would not.
Nobody disturbed him till about two o’clock, when Maggie knocked at the door, and opened it, without entering.
“Edwin, I’ve kept your dinner hot.”
“No, thanks.” He was standing with his legs wide apart on the hearth rug.
“Father’s had his dinner and gone.”
“No, thanks.”
She closed the door again.