seven o'clock in the morning
`` Floss , you know if Al once gets into the bathroom ! '' Floss sat up in bed , her eyes still closed . She made little clucking sounds with her tongue and lips , as a baby does when it wakes . Drugged with sleep , hair tousled , muscles sagging , at seven o'clock in the morning , the most trying hour in the day for a woman , Floss was still triumphantly pretty . She had on one of those absurd pink muslin nightgowns , artfully designed to look like crêpe de chine . You 've seen them rosily displayed in the cheaper shop windows , marked ninety-eight cents , and you may have wondered who might buy them , forgetting that there is an imitation mind for every imitation article in the world . Rose stooped , picked up a pair of silk stockings from the floor , and ran an investigating hand through to heel and toe .