midday
In this way she came to conclusions , which had to be remodelled according to the adventures of the day , and were indeed recast as liberally as any one could desire , leaving always a small grain of belief behind them . Ibsen was succeeded by a novel such as Mrs. Ambrose detested , whose purpose was to distribute the guilt of a woman 's downfall upon the right shoulders ; a purpose which was achieved , if the reader 's discomfort were any proof of it . She threw the book down , looked out of the window , turned away from the window , and relapsed into an arm-chair . The morning was hot , and the exercise of reading left her mind contracting and expanding like the main-spring of a clock , and the small noises of midday , which one can ascribe to no definite cause , in a regular rhythm . It was all very real , very big , very impersonal , and after a moment or two she began to raise her first finger and to let it fall on the arm of her chair so as to bring back to herself some consciousness of her own existence . She was next overcome by the unspeakable queerness of the fact that she should be sitting in an arm-chair , in the morning , in the middle of the world . Who were the people moving in the house -- moving things from one place to another ?