It began to rain that morning, about the time London was coming to life; a series of showers that rolled across the city, reminding its inhabitants that summer wasn’t a promise, merely an occasional treat. The skies loomed grey and heavy, and buildings sulked beneath their weight. On the streets traffic played its wet-weather soundtrack, a symphony of hissing and slurring against a whispered backbeat of wipers, and in Slough House there was a muted atmosphere, because rain on office windows is a sad and lonely affair, and life in Slough House was hardly a barrel of laughs to begin with.当新的一天即将开始的时候，清晨的伦敦下起了雨，阵兩遍洒城区各地，提醒着人们晴朗的夏日并非承诺，不过是偶尔的款待。黑云低垂，重压之下的高楼大厦显得闷闷不乐。路上的车流伴着雨刷器的节拍含混轻语，那是雨天特有的韵律，斯劳屋里则是一片沉寂，毕竟雨水敲打办公室的窗户本就让人心生悲戚，更何况斯劳屋的生活本就让人高兴不起来。