"Well, what?" he growled savagely, as Edwin halted.
In spite of his advanced age Edwin began to cry. Yes, the tears came
out of his eyes.
"And now you begin blubbing!" said his father.
"You say naught for six months--and then you start writing letters!"
said his father.
"And what's made ye settle on architecting, I'd like to be knowing?"
Darius went on.
Edwin was not able to answer this question. He had never put it to
himself. Assuredly he could not, at the pistol's point, explain _why_ he
wanted to be an architect. He did not know. He announced this truth
ingenuously--
"I don't know--I--"
"I sh'd think not!" said his father. "D'ye think architecting'll be any
better than this?" `This' meant printing.
"I don't know--"
"Ye don't know! Ye don't know!" Darius repeated testily. His
testiness was only like foam on the great wave of his resentment.
"Mr Orgreave--" Edwin began. It was unfortunate, because Darius had
had a difficulty with Mr Orgreave, who was notoriously somewhat
exacting in the matter of prices.
"Don't talk to me about Mester Orgreave!" Darius almost shouted.