midday
She had cast herself on the ground -- that natural throne for violent sorrow -- and leant up against the old moss-grown seat ; sometimes burying her face in her hands ; sometimes clasping them together , as if by the tight painful grasp of her fingers she could deaden mental suffering . She did not see Roger Hamley returning from the meadows , nor hear the click of the little white gate . He had been out dredging in ponds and ditches , and had his wet sling-net , with its imprisoned treasures of nastiness , over his shoulder . He was coming home to lunch , having always a fine midday appetite , though he pretended to despise the meal in theory . But he knew that his mother liked his companionship then ; she depended much upon her luncheon , and was seldom downstairs and visible to her family much before the time . So he overcame his theory , for the sake of his mother , and had his reward in the hearty relish with which he kept her company in eating . He did not see Molly as he crossed the terrace-walk on his way homewards .