six o'clock
The afternoon was damply refreshing . As soon as the rain ceased , Maurice shut his piano , and walked at a brisk pace to Connewitz , his head bared beneath the overhanging branches , which were still weighed down by their burden of drops . At the WALDCAFE on the bank of the river , in a thickly grown arbour which he entered to drink a glass of beer , he found Philadelphia Jensen and the pale little American , Fauvre , taking coffee . The lady welcomed him with a large , outstretched hand , in the effusively hearty manner with which she , as it were , took possession of people ; and towards six o'clock , the three walked back through the woods together , Miss Jensen , resolute of bust as of voice , slightly ahead of her companions , carrying her hat in her hand , Fauvre dragging behind , hitting indolently at stones and shrubs , and singing scraps of melodies to himself in his deep baritone . Miss Jensen , who had once been a journalist , was an earnest worker for woman 's emancipation , and having now successfully mounted her hobby , spoke with a thought-deadening eloquence . Maurice had never been called on to think about the matter , and listened to her words absent-mindedly , comparing her , as she swept along , to a ship in full sail . She was just asserting that the ordinary German woman was little more than means to an end , the end being the man-child , when his attention was arrested , and , in an instant , jerked far away from Miss Jensen 's theories .