a quarter to two
Closing his own , he felt again her arms on his shoulders , her lips meeting his , and , at such moments , it could happen that he threw his arms round a tree , in an ungovernable rush of longing . Beyond the moment when he should clasp her to him again , he could not see : the future was as indistinct as were the Saxon plains , in the haze of morning or evening . He set out to meet her far too early in the day , and when he had covered the couple of miles that lay between the inn on the hill and the railway-station at the foot , he was obliged to loiter about the sleepy little town for over an hour . But gradually the time ticked away ; the hands of his watch pointed to a quarter to two , and presently he found himself on the shadeless , sandy station which lay at the end of a long , sandy street , edged with two rows of young and shadeless trees ; found himself looking along the line of rail that was to bring her to him . Would the signal never go up ? He began to feel , in spite of the strong July sunlight , that there was something illusive about the whole thing . Or perhaps it was just this harsh , crude light , without relieving shadows , which made his surroundings seem unreal to him .