three o'clock
At long intervals a vehicle rattled past , leaving a cloud of dust behind . The air shimmered with the heat , and the low , insistent buzzing of bees beat on his ears mercilessly . He wondered impatiently why Guinevere did not come down , then checked himself as he remembered the constant demands he made upon her time . At three o'clock he could stand it no longer . He felt a queer , dull sensation about his head , and he constantly drew his hand across his eyes to dispel the impression of a mist before them . `` Oh , Miss Guinevere ! '' he called up to her window .