six o'clock in the morning
`` One ought to find something to do . '' She looked at the sky through the windowpanes . It was a livid sky , and sooty clouds were scudding across it . It was six o'clock in the morning . Over the way , on the opposite side of the Boulevard Haussmann , the glistening roofs of the still-slumbering houses were sharply outlined against the twilight sky while along the deserted roadway a gang of street sweepers passed with a clatter of wooden shoes . As she viewed Paris thus grimly awakening , she was overcome by tender , girlish feelings , by a yearning for the country , for idyllic scenes , for things soft and white . `` Now guess what you 're to do , '' she said , coming back to Steiner .