seven o'clock
She had not been dangerously ill ; but it had been clearly impossible to leave doctor and chemist behind and plunge into the wilds . So they had hidden themselves in a little Italian inn in a back street , and the days had passed somehow . * * * * * Surely this hot evening and their shabby carriage and the dusty unfamiliar road were all dream-stuff -- an illusion from which she was to wake directly and find herself once more in her room at Marinata , looking out on Monte Cavo ? Yet as this passed across Lucy 's mind , she felt again upon her face the cool morning wind , as she and Eleanor fled down the Marinata hill in the early sunlight , between six and seven o'clock , -- through the streets of Albano , already full and busy , -- along the edge of that strange green crater of Aricia , looking up to Pio Nono 's great viaduct , and so to Cecchina , the railway station in the plain . An escape ! -- nothing else ; planned the night before when Lucy 's strong commonsense had told her that the only chance for her own peace and Eleanor 's was to go at once , to stop any further development of the situation , and avoid any fresh scene with Mr. Manisty . She thought of the details -- the message left for Aunt Pattie that they had gone into Rome to shop before the heat ; then the telegram ` Urgente , ' despatched to the villa after they were sure that Mr. Manisty must have safely left it for that important field day of his clerical and Ultramontane friends in Rome , in which he was pledged to take part ; then the arrival of the startled and bewildered Aunt Pattie at the small hotel where they were in hiding -- her conferences -- first with Eleanor , then with Lucy .