five o'clock
For an hour , lost to bodily fatigue , he paced up and down , past the bowl of carnations he had plucked , which mocked him with its scent . Of all things hard to bear , the prostration of will-power is hardest , for one who has always had his way . Nature had got him in its net , and like an unhappy fish he turned and swam at the meshes , here and there , found no hole , no breaking point . They brought him tea at five o'clock , and a letter . For a moment hope beat up in him . He cut the envelope with the butter knife , and read : `` DEAREST UNCLE JOLYON , -- I ca n't bear to write anything that may disappoint you , but I was too cowardly to tell you last night . I feel I ca n't come down and give Holly any more lessons , now that June is coming back .