The hours, the day, limped somehow by.

He walked to keep himself warm.
Back and forth and to and fro.

December--December--December! How cold was the Kelpie's Pool?
Poisoned love--poisoned friendship--ambition in ruin--bells ringing for executions! To and fro--to and fro.

He had always felt life as sensuous, rich, and warm, with garlands and colors.

It had been large and aglow, with a profusion of arabesques of imagination and emotion.