Seizing a paper, he began to read.
Annie, her blouse unfastened, her long ropes of hair twisted into a plait, went up to bed, bidding him a very curt good-night.
Paul sat pretending to read.

He knew his mother wanted to upbraid him.
He also wanted to know what had made her ill, for he was troubled.

So, instead of running away to bed, as he would have liked to do, he sat and waited.

There was a tense silence.

The clock ticked loudly.
"You'd better go to bed before your father comes in," said the mother harshly.