eight
o'clock
She was weeping because a packet of soiled and yellow old letters on the top shelf in the hall closet was now only a packet of soiled and yellow old letters , food for the ash can . She was weeping because the urge of spring , that had expressed itself in her only this morning pitifully enough in terms of rhubarb , and housecleaning and a bundle of thumbed old love letters , had stirred in her for the last time . But presently she did stop her sobbing and got up and cleared the table , and washed the dishes and even glanced at the crumpled sheets of the morning paper that she never found time to read until evening . By eight o'clock the little flat was very still . Theresa Platt -LRB- she that had been Terry Sheehan -RRB- watched her husband across the breakfast table with eyes that smouldered . When a woman 's eyes smoulder at 7.30 a.m. the person seated opposite her had better look out . But Orville Platt was quite unaware of any smouldering in progress .