Julius went up stairs to his mother without attracting the slightest notice.
The month was August.

The streets were empty.

The vilest breeze that blows--a hot east wind in London--was the breeze abroad on that day.
Even Geoffrey appeared to feel the influence of the weather as the cab carried him from his father's door to the hotel.

He took off his hat, and unbuttoned his waistcoat, and lit his everlasting pipe, and growled and grumbled between his teeth in the intervals of smoking.

Was it only the hot wind that wrung from him these demonstrations of discomfort?
Or was there some secret anxiety in his mind which assisted the depressing influences of the day?
There was a secret anxiety in his mind.