Love and Hatred by Marie Belloc Lowndes

Mrs. Tropenell, waiting for Oliver to come back, lost count of time, and yet not much more than half an hour had gone by before she heard the sound of a glazed door, which opened on to the garden from a distant part of the house, burst open.

In that sound she seemed to hear all the impatience, all the pain, all the frustrated longing she divined in her son.