ten o'clock
The fresh air will do me good . It has turned so much warmer , and the snow is all melting . '' As she spoke , she rose from the table and began to prepare herself for the street , putting on the black hat with the ostrich tip and the bunch of violets on one side , which did n't seem just right since she had come to New York , and carefully wrapping the ends of her fur neck-piece around her throat . It was already ten o'clock , for Oliver had slept late , and she must be hurrying if she hoped to get through her shopping before luncheon . While she dressed , a wan spirit of humour entered into her , and she saw how absurd it was that she should rush about from shop to shop , buying things that did not matter in order to fill a life that mattered as little as they did . To her , whose mental outlook had had in it so little humour , it seemed suddenly that the whole of life was ridiculous . Why should she have sat there , pouring Oliver 's coffee and talking to him about insignificant things , when her heart was bursting with this sense of something gone out of existence , with this torturing realization of the irretrievable failure of love ?