eleven o'clock
In the shaft of arc-light Miss Schump could see the little face framed in the wan curls lift and crinkle the nose to smile . `` Come on . '' She watched them recede down the narrow asphalt of the parkway . At eleven o'clock , to lessen her stiffening of joints , she walked twice the circumference of the fenced-in inclosure , finally sitting again , this time beneath a gaunt oleander that was heavy with bud . `` O God ! '' she kept repeating , her stress growing . `` O God !