midday
Yet it was there . The volcano was beginning to smoke . It was a month later before the town saw the flames . During that time John Markley had been walking to and from his midday dinner with Isabel Hobart , had been helping her on and off with her wraps in the office , and had been all but kicking up the dirt behind him and barking around her , as the clerks there told us , without causing comment . An honest man always has such a long start when he runs away from himself that no one misses him until he is beyond extradition . Matters went along thus for nearly a year before the woman in the cottage on Exchange Street knew how they stood . And that speaks well of our town ; for we are not a mean town , and if anyone ever had our sympathy it was Mrs. Markley , as she went about her quiet ways , giving her missionary teas , looking after the poor of her church , making her famous doughnuts for the socials , doing her part at the Relief Corps chicken-pie suppers , digging her club paper out of the encyclopædia , and making over her black silk the third time for every day .