about three o’clock
The month of May had been magnificent that year . It was long since the crops gave such good promise . That day precisely , I had made a tour of inspection with my son , Jacques . We started at about three o'clock . Our meadows on the banks of the Garonne were of a tender green . The grass was three feet high , and an osier thicket , planted the year before , had sprouts a yard high . From there we went to visit our wheat and our vines , fields bought one by one as fortune came to us .