eight o'clock
He had no occasion to do this . Daniel Granger , after going half way to Marseilles , with a notion of exploring Algiers and Morocco , had stopped short , and made his way by road and rail -- through sirocco , clouds of dust , and much inconvenience -- to Liége , where he had lingered to recover and calm himself down a little before going to see his child . Going to see his child -- that was the sole purpose of his journey ; not for a moment would he have admitted that it mattered anything to him that he was also going to see his wife . It was between seven and eight o'clock , on a bright June evening -- a flush of rosy light behind the wooded hills -- and Clarissa was sitting on some felled timber , with her boy asleep in her arms . He had dropped off to sleep in the midst of his play ; and she had lingered , unwilling to disturb him . If he went on sleeping , she would be able to carry him home presently , and put him to bed without awaking him . The villa was not a quarter of a mile away .