five o'clock
he brought out again , boyishly , and thrust away the dusty vines that hung against the opening from the stone walls of the parish house close by . He gasped ; looked about as if in desperate need of relief ; struck back the damp hair from his face . The heat was insufferable . In the west black-gray clouds rolled up like blankets , shutting out heaven and air ; low thunder growled ; at five o'clock of a midsummer afternoon it was almost dark ; a storm was coming fast , and coolness would come with it , but in the meantime it was hard for a man who felt heat intensely just to get breath . His eyes stared at the open door of the room , down the corridor which led to the room , which turned and led by another open door to the street . `` If they 're coming , why do n't they come and get it over ? '' he murmured to himself ; he was stifling -- it was actual suffering .