five o'clock before
Perhaps it was fast , perhaps hers was slow -- I ca n't tell you a thousandth part of my hopes and fears . There was a spring of water , in one corner . I sat beside it , and thought of the last time I had been there -- and something seemed to burst in me . It was five o'clock before I lost all hope ; there comes a time when you 're glad that hope is dead , it means rest . ` That 's over , ' you say , ` now I can act . ' But what was I to do ? I lay down with my face to the ground ; when one 's in trouble , it 's the only thing that helps -- something to press against and cling to that ca n't give way .