four o'clock
There was so much to be got over that day , Conniston was so eager to learn what details he could , Tommy Garton so eager to impart them , that it was scarcely half-past twelve when the two men were back at the long table going over maps and blue-prints . There were no interruptions . An imprisoned house-fly buzzed monotonously and sullenly against a pane of glass , his drone fitting into the heavy silence on the face of the hot desert so that it became a part of it . At four o'clock a handful of ragged children , barefooted , bronzed of legs and hands and faces , scampered by on their noisy way home from school . A pretty young woman in neat walking-habit and big white straw hat followed the children , smiling in through the open door at Garton , noting Conniston with a flash of big brown eyes and quickly dropping lids . Billy , in seeming carelessness , had wandered to the door when the children passed , and stepped outside , chatting with her for five or ten minutes . `` Miss Jocelyn , '' Garton told him .