He heard voices below. And his soul seemed to shrink back, as if into the of the shell from which it had been peeping. His soul was tremendous, in ; but even the of society it. His father and another were walking about the ground floor; the rough voice of his father echoed in all its . He listened for the other voice; it was his Auntie Clara’s. Darius too had taken his Saturday afternoon for a visit to the house, and somehow he must have encountered Mrs Hamps, and brought her with him to view.  
Without giving himself time to dissipate his courage in reflection, he walked to the landing, and called down the stairs, “Hello, Auntie!”
 
Why should his tone have been self-conscious, forced? He was engaged in no crime. He had told his father where he was going, and his father had not contradicted his remark that even if both of them happened to be out together, the shop would take no harm under the sole care of Stifford for an hour in the quiet of Saturday afternoon.
 
Mrs Hamps replied, in her , sweet manner.
 
“What did ye leave th’ front door open for?” his father demanded , and every room in the house heard the question.
 
“Was it open?” he said .
 
“Was it open! All Trafalgar Road could have walked in and made themselves at home.”
 
Edwin stood leaning with his arms on the rail of the landing. Presently the visitors appeared at the foot of the stairs, and Darius climbed carefully, having first shaken the balustrade to make sure that it was genuine, , and well-founded. Mrs Hamps followed, the fripperies of her elegant trembling, and her black gown . Edwin smiled at her, and she returned his smile with usurious interest. There was now a mist of grey in her fine hair.
 
“Oh, Edwin!” she began, breathing relief on the top stair. “What a beautiful house! Beautiful! Quite perfect! The latest of everything! Do you know what I’ve been thinking while your dear father has been showing me all this. So that’s the bathroom! Bless us! Hot! Cold! Waste! That cupboard under the is very handy, but what a for a careless servant! Maggie will have to look at it every day, or it’ll be used for anything and everything. You tell her what her auntie says... I was thinking—if but your mother could have seen it all!”
 
Father and son said nothing. Auntie Hamps sighed. She was the only person who ever referred to the late Mrs Clayhanger.
 
The procession moved on from room to room, Darius fingering and , Mrs Hamps discovering in each detail the fine flower of utter perfection, and Edwin strolling loosely in the wake of her curls, her , and her abundant black petticoats. He could detect the odour of her kid gloves; it was a odour that never escaped him, and it reminded him of his mother’s funeral.
 
He was glad that they had not arrived during the visit of Janet Orgreave.
 
In due course Edwin’s bedroom was reached, and here Auntie Clara’s was redoubled.
 
“I’m sure you’re very grateful to your father, aren’t you, Edwin?” she assumed, when she had admired the window, the door, the pattern of the hearth-tiles, and the .
 
Edwin could not speak. of this nature from Mrs Hamps paralysed the tongues of the children. They left nothing to be said. A sheepish grin, preceded by an inward mute curse, was all that Edwin could accomplish. How in heaven’s name could the woman talk in that strain? His attitude towards his auntie was assuredly hardening with years.
 
“What’s all this?” questioned his father suddenly, pointing to upright boards that had been fastened to the walls on either side of the mantelpiece, to a height of about three feet.
 
Then Edwin perceived the clumsiness of his tactics in remaining upstairs. He ought to have gone downstairs to meet his father and auntie, and left them to go up alone. His father was in an mood.
 
“It’s for shelves,” he said.
 
“Shelves?”
 
“For my books. It’s Mr Orgreave’s idea. He says it’ll cost less.”
 
“Cost less! Mr Orgreave’s got too many ideas—that’s what’s the matter with him. He’ll idea me into the court if he keeps on.”
 
Edwin would have liked to protest against the of the tone, to inquire firmly why, since shelves were necessary for books and he had books, there need be such a display of ill-temper about a few feet of deal . The words were ready, the sentences framed in his mind. But he was silent. The door was locked on these words, but it was ............