two o'clock
Good night , little white flower . I 'll be waiting , and remember , counting every second of every minute and every minute of every hour . '' For a long time she remained where he had left her , forward on the pink divan , her head with a listening look to it , as if waiting an answer for the prayers that she sent up . * * * * * At two o'clock that morning , by what intuition she would never know , and with such leverage that she landed out of bed plump on her two feet , Alma , with all her faculties into trace like fire horses , sprang out of sleep . It was a matter of twenty steps across the hall . In the white-tiled Roman bathroom , the muddy circles suddenly out and angry beneath her eyes , her mother was standing before one of the full-length mirrors -- snickering . There was a fresh little grave on the inside of her right forearm .