midday
And it rained , it rained . Wet and weary , they had no choice but to return to the inn . Elgar 's animation had given place to fretfulness ; Mallard , after his miserable night , cared little to converse , and would gladly have been alone . A midday meal , with liberal supply of wine , helped them somewhat , and they sat down to smoke in their bedroom . It rained harder than ever ; from the window they could see the old tower on the crag smitten with white scud . `` Come now , '' said Mallard , forcing himself to take a livelier tone , `` tell me about those projects of yours . Are you serious in your idea of writing ? ''