two P.M.
When she did recall him , it was with respect quite different from the titillation that dancing men had sometimes aroused , or the impression of manicured agreeableness and efficiency which Jeff Saxton carried about . She always supplicated the mythical Milt in moments of tight driving . Driving , just the actual getting on , was her purpose in life , and the routine of driving was her order of the day : Morning freshness , rolling up as many miles as possible before lunch , that she might loaf afterward . The invariable two P.M. discovery that her eyes ached , and the donning of huge amber glasses , which gave to her lithe smartness a counterfeit scholarliness . Toward night , the quarter-hour of level sun-glare which prevented her seeing the road . Dusk , and the discovery of how much light there was after all , once she remembered to take off her glasses . The worst quarter-hour when , though the roads were an amethyst rich to the artist , they were also a murkiness exasperating to the driver , yet still too light to be thrown into relief by the lamps .