eleven o'clock
They had followed the lead-pipe affairs and the Chinese-laundry episode with dreadful inevitability . But it had been five years since the last -- the night his mother had fainted with terror at what she had found concealed in the toes of his gymnasium shoes . Incredible that into his manhood should come the waving specter of those early passions . At eleven o'clock , after she heard him up and moving about , his mother carried him his kiss and his coffee , steaming black , the way he liked it . She had wanted to bring him an egg -- in fact , had prepared one , to just his liking of two minutes and thirty seconds -- but had thought better of it , and wisely , because he drank the coffee at a quick gulp and set down the cup with his mouth wry and his eyes squeezed tight . From the taste of it he remembered horridly the litter of tall glasses beside the gilt clock . With all her senses taut not to fuss around him with little jerks and pullings , Sara jerked and pulled .