eleven o'clock
Always after breakfast there was this pleasant ritual . She would plod all round the house , duster in hand , picking things up , giving them a little flick and putting them back again , patting treasures that she especially loved , sighing heavily with satisfaction at the pleasant sight of all her possessions tranquilly in their right places . As she looked around the ugly sitting-room and saw the red glazed pots with the ferns , the faded football-groups , the worsted mats and the china shepherdesses , a rich warm feeling rose in her heart and filled her whole body . It was like a fine meal to a hungry man : every morning at half-past nine she was hungry in this fashion , and every morning by eleven o'clock she was satisfied . Her thick body thus promenaded the house ; she was like a stolid policeman in female attire , going his rounds to see that all was well . From room to room she went , pausing to pant for breath on the stairs , stumbling always because of her short sight at the three dark little steps just outside Paul 's bedroom , always sitting down on her bed `` to take a breath '' and to get a full gaze at the crucifix of bright yellow wood , that hung just under her mother 's picture . Tramp , tramp , tramp round the house she went .