seven o’clock
The small timber room glowed with the dawn , that came upwards from the low window . She could see down the valley when she lifted her head : the snow with a pinkish , half-revealed magic , the fringe of pine-trees at the bottom of the slope . And one tiny figure moved over the vaguely-illuminated space . She glanced at his watch ; it was seven o'clock . He was still completely asleep . And she was so hard awake , it was almost frightening -- a hard , metallic wakefulness . She lay looking at him .