seven o’clock
The train was rushing through a region of bare hillocks huddled against a lifeless sky . It looked like the first day of creation . The air of the car was close , and she pushed up her window to let in the keen wind . Then she looked at her watch : it was seven o'clock , and soon the people about her would be stirring . She slipped into her clothes , smoothed her dishevelled hair and crept to the dressing-room . When she had washed her face and adjusted her dress she felt more hopeful . It was always a struggle for her not to be cheerful in the morning .