About three o'clock
It is true her dim eyes saw nothing but a blur , her poor deaf ears could not hear one word , but she sat at the angle she was used to , and thought of nothing at all . And perhaps it was better so , for she was near her end . Outside the churchyard , in the sun-warmed grass , the fox-terriers lay one against the other , pretending to shiver , with their small bright eyes fixed on the church door , and the rubbery nostrils of the spaniel John worked ever busily beneath the wicket gate . About three o'clock that afternoon a tall man walked up the avenue at Worsted Skeynes , in one hand carrying his hat , in the other a small brown bag . He stopped now and then , and took deep breaths , expanding the nostrils of his straight nose . He had a fine head , with wings of grizzled hair . His clothes were loose , his stride was springy .