one o'clock
He lights another . The Rose is standing forlornly at his feet . While the match lasts he lifts her to the bracken bed ; presses her down ; backs out ; closes the door . His watch , put beneath the moon , tells him it is upon one o'clock . He pulls to the outer door ; wedges beneath it a stump of wood that keeps it firmly shut ; makes for home . In an hour he is sleeping the dreamless , childlike slumber that comes to those who , setting their hand to the plough , have manfully laboured a full day 's work . Horror At Herons ' Holt .