The frost of last night had held throughout the morning, and the sunlight sparkled with a rare and seasonable brightness of a traditional Christmas weather.
Hecatombs of turkeys hung in the poulterers' windows, among sprigs of holly, and shops were bright with children's toys.

The briskness of the day had flushed the colour into the faces of the passengers in the street, and the festive air of the imminent holiday was abroad.

All this Michael noticed with a sense of detachment; what had happened had caused a veil to fall between himself and external things; it was as if he was sealed into some glass cage, and had no contact with what passed round him.

This lasted throughout his walk, and when he let himself into his flat it was with the same sense of alienation that he found his cousin Francis gracefully reclining on the sofa that he had pulled up in front of the fire.
Francis was inclined to be querulous.
"I was just wondering whether I should give you up," he said.

"The hour that you named for lunch was half-past one.