Three o'clock
Wessel wavered -- he was soft as taffy , that man -- gave in . Soft Shoes went into the adjoining room with the begrudged writing materials and precisely closed the door . Wessel grunted and returned to `` The Faerie Queene '' ; so silence came once more upon the house . Three o'clock went into four . The room paled , the dark outside was shot through with damp and chill , and Wessel , cupping his brain in his hands , bent low over his table , tracing through the pattern of knights and fairies and the harrowing distresses of many girls . There were dragons chortling along the narrow street outside ; when the sleepy armorer 's boy began his work at half-past five the heavy clink and clank of plate and linked mail swelled to the echo of a marching cavalcade . A fog shut down at the first flare of dawn , and the room was grayish yellow at six when Wessel tiptoed to his cupboard bedchamber and pulled open the door .