two o'clock
It was three days since she had seen Oliver , and in those three days she had lived and died many times . `` Father , I want to marry John Henry , '' said Susan , just as she had said almost ten years ago , `` Father , I want to go to college . '' It was a March afternoon , ashen and windy , with flocks of small fleecy clouds hurrying across a changeable blue sky , and the vague , roving scents of early spring in the air . After his dinner , which he had taken for more than fifty years precisely at two o'clock , Cyrus had sat down for a peaceful pipe on the back porch before returning to the office . Between the sunken bricks in the little walled-in yard , blades of vivid green grass had shot up , seeking light out of darkness , and along the grey wooden ledge of the area the dauntless sunflowers were unfolding their small stunted leaves . On the railing of the porch a moth-eaten cat -- the only animal for whom Cyrus entertained the remotest respect -- was contentedly licking the shabby fur on her side . `` Father , I want to marry John Henry , '' repeated Susan , raising her voice to a higher key and towering like a flesh and blood image of Victory over the sagging cane chair in which he sat .