five o'clock
September had set in , and only a few stragglers had come back to London . Most people were still lingering on the sea-shore or among the breezy hills ; but one young woman , standing at the window of a back-room in All Saints ' Street , was looking as happy as if she loved the view of chimney-pots and smoky tiles . It was the last day of Elsie 's single life . The bell was just beginning to chime for five o'clock service ; in the next room Mrs. Lennard and Miss Saxon were closing the lids of the boxes and looking round to see that nothing had been forgotten or left out . And Elsie , standing alone in her old place , was watching the sunset shining on these crowded house-roofs for the last time . Meta 's manuscript , carefully tied up , was lying on the little table near . As Elsie 's fingers rested on the roll , her thoughts went straying back to that evening in the early spring when she had stood here to fight her battle in silence .