about seven o'clock
He went slowly towards the camp , conscious that the day now departing had opened a new door in the House of Life . Ellesborough allowed a week to pass before making the call at Great End he had arranged with Rachel . But at last , when he thought that her harvesting would be really over , he set out on his motor bicycle , one fine evening , as soon as work at the camp was over . According to summer time it was about seven o'clock , and the sun was still sailing clear above the western woods . Part of his way lay over a broad common chequered with fine trees and groups of trees , some of them of great age ; for the rest he ran through a world where harvest in its latest stages was still the governing fact . In some fields the corn was being threshed on the spot , without waiting for the stacks ; in others , the last loads were being led ; and everywhere in the cleared fields there were scattered figures of gleaners , casting long shadows on the gold and purple carpet of the stubble . For Ellesborough the novelty of this garden England , so elaborately combed and finished in comparison with his own country , was by no means exhausted .