one o'clock
There was no sign of Mr. Royall about the house and the hours passed without his reappearing . Charity had gone up to her room , and sat there listlessly , her hands on her lap . Puffs of sultry air fanned her dimity window curtains and flies buzzed stiflingly against the bluish panes . At one o'clock Verena hobbled up to see if she were not coming down to dinner ; but she shook her head , and the old woman went away , saying : `` I 'll cover up , then . '' The sun turned and left her room , and Charity seated herself in the window , gazing down the village street through the half-opened shutters . Not a thought was in her mind ; it was just a dark whirlpool of crowding images ; and she watched the people passing along the street , Dan Targatt 's team hauling a load of pine-trunks down to Hepburn , the sexton 's old white horse grazing on the bank across the way , as if she looked at these familiar sights from the other side of the grave . She was roused from her apathy by seeing Ally Hawes come out of the Frys ' gate and walk slowly toward the red house with her uneven limping step .