midnight
He was a writer , an essayist with no slight leaven of the poet , and had learnt early that the everyday world held naught in common with the brooding of the soul . But he was no long-haired dreamer of impossible things . Erect and square-shouldered , he had passed through Sandhurst into the army , a profession abandoned because of its humdrum nature , when an unexpectedly `` fat '' legacy rendered him independent . He looked exactly what he was , a healthy , clean-minded young Englishman , with a physique that led to occasional bouts of fox-hunting and Alpine climbing , and a taste in literature that brought about the consumption of midnight oil . This latter is not a mere trope . Steynholme is far removed from such modern `` conveniences '' as gas and electricity . At present he had no more definite object in life than to watch the trout rising in the pool .