half after eight
She stopped finally at a florid lace-and-glass-fronted restaurant on Forty-third Street , with a mimeographed breakfast menu up against the window . Her food went down through a throat constricted against it . Her tightness would not relax . At half after eight she was back once more in her room , changing from the tan linen into a pink mull , heavily inserted , too , and throwing up quite an aura of rosiness about her . She had only the tan hat , too wide and too floppy of brim , but it had a picturesque value , which is a greater selling quality than _ chic _ . In fact , in her own eyes , as she tilted the mirror for a full-length view , the art of Katy Stutz stood unimpeached . Eying her reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator , she felt as pinkly blown as a rose , and looked it .