When I got up this morning the world was a cold place of dead white and pale blues. The light that came through the windows was very strange, and it made the familiar business of splashing and shaving and brushing and dressing very strange too. Then the sun came out, and by the time I had sat down to breakfast it was shining bravely and flushing the snow with delicate pinks. The dining-room window had been transformed into a lovely Japanese print.The little plum tree outside, with the faintly flushed snow lining its branches and artfully disposed along its trunk, stood in full sunlight.