ten o'clock
Something so jaded in her that she thought it long dead , was stirring sappily , as if with springtime . Maybe it was a resurgence of sense of power after months of terror that the years had done for her . At any rate , it was something strangely and deeply sweet . `` Nicky-boy , '' she said , sitting on the couch with her back against the wall , her legs out horizontally and clapping her rubbed gilt slippers together -- `` Nicky-boy must go home ten o'clock to-night . Josie-girl tired . '' Her mouth , like a red paper rose that had been crushed there , was always bunched to baby talk . `` Come here , '' he said , and jerked her so that the breath jumped .