five o'clock
But he slept on . She did not dare to kiss that broad white buckler of his forehead again . She kissed the sleeve of his coat instead , and , scared by a sudden sigh and movement of one of the hands that hung over the chair-arms , gathered her draperies around her , and stole as noiselessly as a pale sunbeam , out of the room . It was barely five o'clock , and the balmiest summer day at Herion is wont to waken , like a spoilt child , in a bad temper of angry wind and lashing rain . Lynette , who had risen from her bed and thrown her dressing-gown about her , to kneel on the broad window-seat and look out upon this strange new world , shivered , standing barefoot on the mossy carpet . Then she looked round the room , and smiled with delight . For she had found it , upon her arrival of the previous night , a reproduction , down to the smallest detail , of her blue-and-white bedroom at Harley Street , with this notable difference -- that on the wall facing the bed-head hung a fine copy of a Millais portrait that was one of the treasures of Bawne House .