about nine o'clock
What would have surprised him if he could have thought about it was that , above it all , above the tenderness and the compunction , he still felt that triumphant sense of sanction and completion , of acquiescence in an end foreappointed and foreseen . But before he could think about it he was overtaken by an astounding , an incredible drowsiness . He dragged himself home to his attic and his bed , where , astoundingly , incredibly , he slept . It was about nine o'clock of another Sunday evening a week later . Winny Dymond was sitting on the edge of Violet 's bed in the little back room in St. Ann 's Terrace . Violet , in a white petticoat and camisole , overcome by the heat , lay stretched at length , like a drowsy animal , in the hollow of the bed where she had flung herself . Her head , tilted back , lay in the clasp of her hands .