six o’clock
Well then , that other sweet evening was what the present sweet evening would resemble ; with the quite calculable effect of an exquisite inward refreshment . They HAD , after all , whatever happened , always and ever each other ; each other -- that was the hidden treasure and the saving truth -- to do exactly what they would with : a provision full of possibilities . Who could tell , as yet , what , thanks to it , they would n't have done before the end ? They had meanwhile been tracing together , in the golden air that , toward six o'clock of a July afternoon , hung about the massed Kentish woods , several features of the social evolution of her old playmates , still beckoned on , it would seem , by unattainable ideals , still falling back , beyond the sea , to their native seats , for renewals of the moral , financial , conversational -- one scarce knew what to call it -- outfit , and again and for ever reappearing like a tribe of Wandering Jewesses . Our couple had finally exhausted , however , the study of these annals , and Maggie was to take up , after a drop , a different matter , or one at least with which the immediate connection was not at first apparent . `` Were you amused at me just now -- when I wondered what other people could wish to struggle for ? Did you think me , '' she asked with some earnestness -- `` well , fatuous ? ''