midday
For myself , I am the man you have long known , Paul Griggs , the American ; a man of many acquaintances and of few friends , who has seen the world , and is forty-three years of age , ugly and tough , not so poor as I have been , not so good as I might be , melancholic by temperament , and a little sour by force of circumstances . It chanced , one evening , that I was walking alone through the park . I had been on foot to the village to send a telegram , which I had not cared to trust to a servant . The weather had suddenly cleared , and there had been a sharp frost in the morning ; towards midday it had thawed a little , but by the time it was dark everything was frozen hard again . The moon was nearly full , and shone brightly upon the frozen grass , casting queer shadows through the bare branches of the trees ; it was very cold , and I walked fast ; the brittle , frozen mud of the road broke beneath my feet with a creaking , crunching sound , and startled the deep stillness . As I neared the house the moon was before me , and the mass of buildings cast a dark shadow . Carvel Place is like many old country houses in England ; it is a typical dwelling of its kind , irregular , yet imposing , and though it has no plan , for it has been added to and enlarged , and in part rebuilt , it is yet harmonious and of good proportion .