five o'clock
He could not touch the food that he had brought with him . He was faint and sick , and the long table at which he sat , with its white blur of newspapers , rose and fell as though it were floating on an oily sea . But he held out . At five o'clock he was to meet Francey at the gates , and , as though she had some magic gift of relief , he strained towards that time , his head between his hands , his ears counting the seconds that dripped heavily , drowsily from the moon-faced clock . And then she did not come . Outwardly it was only one more trifle , capable of simple explanations . But he saw it through a disfiguring haze of fever , and it was deadly in its significance .