eight o'clock
If it had been only the sinners , she would not have minded so much , but there were some things about her fellow-officers -- Here she stopped , for her loyalty would not allow her to go on , even in thought . This mood of depression was not an uncommon thing in Nora Costello 's life , but she sought the antidote in prayer and work . After her morning devotions , she spent an hour in setting her room to rights ; watering the plants on the window-sill , feeding the bird in the cage , and then , after a breakfast of the most frugal sort , she started on her way to her post . Although it was not yet eight o'clock when she emerged from the door of the tenement-house where she lodged , a haze of heat hung over the city like a pall , the sun was already beating with a sickening glare upon the sidewalk , which still showed signs of having been made a sleeping place by those who found their crowded quarters within too suffocating for endurance . On the doorstep , worn with the feet of the frequent passers , sat a weary woman , nursing her baby . Nora 's heart sank as she noticed the deathly pallor of the little thing . She stopped , bent over , and listened to its breathing .