five o'clock
His voice , his words , the things he had not said ... they spun a brilliant web about her . She loved to be young ; she saw new beauty to-night in the thick rope of tawny hair that hung loosely across her shoulder , in the white breast , half-hidden by the fold of her robe , in the crossed , silk-clad ankles . All the world seemed beautiful tonight , and she beautiful with the rest . Three days later she came downstairs , at five o'clock on a gloomy , dark afternoon , in search of firelight and tea . Emily and Kenneth , Peter Coleman and Mary Peacock , who were staying at the hotel for a week or two , were motoring . The original plan had included Susan , but at the last moment Emily had been discovered upstairs , staring undecidedly out of the window , humming abstractedly . `` Are n't you coming , Em ? ''