five o'clock
He sat in his big , bleak room above the river , and watched the pale green water fused with yellow , the many-threaded streams fuse into one , as swiftly the surface flood came down from the hills . Across , the dark green hills looked darker in the wet , the umbrella pines held up in vain above the villas . But away below , on the Lungarno , traffic rattled as ever . Aaron went down at five o'clock to tea , and found himself alone next a group of women , mostly Swedes or Danish or Dutch , drinking a peculiar brown herb-brew which tasted like nothing else on earth , and eating two thick bits of darkish bread smeared with a brown smear which hoped it was jam , but hoped in vain . Unhappily he sat in the gilt and red , massively ornate room , while the foreign women eyed him . Oh , bitter to be a male under such circumstances . He escaped as soon as possible back to his far-off regions , lonely and cheerless , away above .