“All right,” said Maggie—and a figure sat up in the bed. “Perhaps I’d better come down.”
She descended immediately in an ulster and loose slippers. Edwin waited for her in the hall.
“Now, father,” she said brusquely, entering the dining-room, “what’s amiss?”
Darius gazed at her stupidly. “Nothing,” he muttered.
“You’re very late, I think. When did you have your last meal?”
He shook his head.
“Shall I make you some nice hot tea?”
He nodded.
“Very well,” she said comfortingly.
Soon with her hair hanging about her face and hiding it, she was bending over the gleam of fire, and insinuating a small saucepan into the middle of it, and encouraging the gleam with a pair of bellows. Meanwhile Edwin uneasily ranged the room, and Darius sat motionless.