four o'clock
There was no future for her , or for any girl here , that she knew . Miss Thornton , after twelve years of work , was being paid forty-five dollars , Miss Wrenn , after eight years , forty , and Susan only thirty dollars a month . Brooding over these things , Susan would let her work accumulate , and endure , in heavy silence , the kindly , curious speculations and comments of her associates . But perhaps a hot lunch or a friendly word would send her spirits suddenly up again , Susan would forget her vague ambitions , and reflect cheerfully that it was already four o'clock , that she was going with Cousin Mary Lou and Billy Oliver to the Orpheum to-night , that her best white shirtwaist ought by this time to have come back from the laundry . Or somehow , if depression continued , she would shut her desk , in mid-afternoon , and leave Front Office , cross the long deck -- which was a sort of sample room for rubber goods , and was lined with long cases of them -- descend a flight of stairs to the main floor , cross it and remount the stairs on the other side of the building , and enter the mail-order department . This was an immense room , where fifty men and a few girls were busy at long desks , the air was filled with the hum of typewriters and the murmur of low voices . Beyond it was a door that gave upon more stairs , and at the top of them a small bare room known as the lunch-room .