The London morning was permeated by gentle sunlight, which slipped quietly through the gaps in the curtains into the living room, illuminating Arthur's face as he had just gotten up.
Arthur was sitting at his warm dining table at that moment, with a tray of freshly delivered newspapers on the table, the papers felt warm in his hands, evidently Becky had preheated them with an iron. To his left was a steaming teapot and a plate of freshly baked muffins.
Arthur pulled open the curtains, returned to the dining table, picked up a newspaper with one hand, and held the freshly brewed cup of tea with the other.
