midnight
In answer to his question , the man intent on clearing away the wreckage said : `` The wind just caught it right ... It was dying , anyway . '' Fred Starratt retraced his steps . It was as if the old tree had stood as a symbol of his own life . He never went back to view the old garden again , but , instead , he stood at midnight upon the corner past which Ginger walked with such monotonous and terrible fidelity . He would stand off in the shadows and see her go by , sometimes alone , but more often in obscene company . And in those moments he tasted the concentrated bitterness of life . Was this really a malicious jest or a test of his endurance ?