noon
Lucy 's face , as she had risen to her feet and said `` Good night , Uncle Evelyn , '' had been so like Peter 's as he had last seen it , when Peter had passed him in the doorway at Astleys , that it had taken his breath away . In Brook Street the rain fell . It fell straight and disconsolate , unutterably wet , splashing drearily on the paved street between the rows of wet houses . It fell all day , from the dim dawn , through the murky noon , to the dark evening , desolately weeping over a tired city . Inside number fifty-one , Peggy mended clothes and sang a little song , with Thomas in her lap , and Peter , sitting in the window-seat , knitted Thomas a sweater of Cambridge blue . Peter was getting rather good at knitting . Hilary was there too , but not mending , or knitting , or singing ; he was coughing , and complaining of the climate .