five o'clock
It is now to George Forsyte that the mind must turn for light on the events of that fog-engulfed afternoon . The wittiest and most sportsmanlike of the Forsytes had passed the day reading a novel in the paternal mansion at Princes ' Gardens . Since a recent crisis in his financial affairs he had been kept on parole by Roger , and compelled to reside ` at home . ' Towards five o'clock he went out , and took train at South Kensington Station -LRB- for everyone to-day went Underground -RRB- . His intention was to dine , and pass the evening playing billiards at the Red Pottle -- that unique hostel , neither club , hotel , nor good gilt restaurant . He got out at Charing Cross , choosing it in preference to his more usual St. James 's Park , that he might reach Jermyn Street by better lighted ways . On the platform his eyes -- for in combination with a composed and fashionable appearance , George had sharp eyes , and was always on the look-out for fillips to his sardonic humour -- his eyes were attracted by a man , who , leaping from a first-class compartment , staggered rather than walked towards the exit .