seven o'clock
She was burning with fever and wanted to plunge from the cool sheets . She could have run a mile -- two . Instead , she lay the long night through , her mind a loom weaving a tapestry of her plan of action , and dawn came up pink , hot , and cloudless . At seven o'clock her husband awakened with an ejaculation that landed him sitting on the bed edge . She lay with her eyes closed , wanting not to blink . He dressed silently , but she could hear him tiptoeing about , and finally lay with her hands clenched against the gargling noises that came through the closed door of the bathroom . At last she was conscious that , fully dressed , he was standing beside her , looking down .