nearly five o'clock
Not long in point of time , somehow , but long in point of accessibility . He seemed to be standing , as it were , upon the threshold of a past that he could glimpse , but not re-enter . Even Helen seemed remote -- a part of the background that had been , instead of an equal spectator with him in a review of these dead events . It was nearly five o'clock when he drew near the first wind-stunted pine trees heralding the ocean . He quickened his step . Already the breeze was tearing across the unscreened spaces and carrying damp wisps of fog with it . As he found his steps swinging into the ocean highway he turned and looked back .