half past seven
Behind the chimney two recessed seats looked out over the college gardens ; long red curtains were drawn to shut out the winter draughts . It was the true English January -- driving squalls of rain , dampness , and devastating chill . The east wind brought the booming toll from Magdalen tower very distinctly to the ear , closely followed by the tinny chime in Fellows ' Quad . It was half past seven . Forbes laid down his pen , looked quizzically at the last illegible lines slanting up the paper , and realized that he was hungry . His untasted tea and anchovy toast still stood in the fender where the scout had put them three hours before . He switched on the electric light over the dining table in the centre of the room , and , dropping on the sofa before the fire , prodded the huge lumps of soft coal into a blaze .