ten o'clock
she cried , the wail clinging to her lips . He felt round for his hat , his gaze obscured behind the shining glasses , tiptoed out round the archipelago of too much furniture , groped for the door-handle , turning it noiselessly , and stood for the instant looking back at her bathed in the rosy light and seated upright like a sleeping Ariadne ; opened the door to a slit that closed silently after him . She sat thus for three hours after , the wail still uppermost on the silence . At ten o'clock , with a gust that swayed the heavy drapes , her son burst in upon the room , his stride kicking the door before he opened it . Six feet in his gymnasium shoes , and with a ripple of muscle beneath the well-fitting , well-advertised Campus Coat for College Men , he had emerged from the three years into man 's complete estate , which , at nineteen , is that patch of territory at youth 's feet known as `` the world . '' Gray eyed , his dark lashes long enough to threaten to curl , the lean line of his jaw squaring after the manner of America 's fondest version of her manhood , he was already in danger of fond illusions and fond mommas . `` Hello , mother ! ''