noon
The man who was working by the shadûf cried out no more . No more did Mrs. Armine see , at the end of the long and narrow alley , behind the fretwork of shining , pointed leaves , the lateen sails go by . And the withdrawal of the crying voices and of the gliding sails seemed to leave this orange-garden at the very end of the world . The golden peace of the noon wrapped it as in a garment , the hem of which was wrought in geranium-red , in shining green , and in yellow turning to gold . But in this peace she was conscious of the need to struggle if she would dwell in safety . Soft seemed this garment that was falling gently about her . But was it not really deadly as a shirt of Nessus , the poison of which would penetrate her limbs , would creep into her very soul ?