noon
Berry had accompanied his wife , but Jonah and I had stayed in the country with Jill , lest we should lose a note of that echo of summer which good St. Luke had this year piped so lustily . But yesterday the strains had faltered and died . A sour east wind had arisen , that set the trees shivering , and whipped the golden leaves from their galleries , to send them scudding up the cold grey roads . Worse still , by noon the sky was big with snow , so that before the post office was closed , a telegram had fled to London warning my sister to expect us to arrive by car the following afternoon . Jill renewed her appeal . Above the little spirit lamp which she was holding hovered a tiny flame , seemingly so sensitive that a rough word would quench it for ever . When I had kissed my cousin , I blew steadily and fiercely from the south-west .