nearly noon
He wrote and wrote , almost without pause . The dawn began to glimmer , the red blood of the morning came back to chase the swoon of the night , ere at last , throwing down his pen , he gave a sigh of weary joy , tore off his clothes , plunged into his bed , and there lay afloat on the soft waves of sleep . And as he slept , the sun came slowly up to shake the falsehood out of the earth . Walter slept until nearly noon , then rose , very weary , but with a gladness at his heart . On his table were spread such pages as must please Lufa ! His thoughts went back to the poem , but , to his uneasy surprise , he found he did not recall it with any special pleasure . He had had great delight in reading it , and in giving shape to his delight , but he could not now think what kind of thing it was that had given him such satisfaction .