about half past five
The automobiles of the holiday makers swarmed ceaselessly over the tarvia . Valiantly as she strove to cling to her dream , remorseless reality was at work dragging her back , reclaiming her ; excitement and physical exercise drained her vitality , her feet were sore , sadness invaded her as she came in view of the ragged outline of the city she had left so joyfully in the morning . Summer , that most depressing of seasons in an environment of drab houses and grey pavements , was at hand , listless householders and their families were already , seeking refuge on front steps she passed on her way to Fillmore Street . It was about half past five when she arrived . Lise , her waist removed , was seated in a rocking chair at the window overlooking the littered yards and the backs of the tenements on Rutger Street . And Lise , despite the heaviness of the air , was dreaming . Of such delicate texture was the fabric of Janet 's dreams that not only sordid reality , but contact with other dreams of a different nature , such as her sister 's , often sufficed to dissolve them .