midnight
For Egremont he had a certain reverence : a man who habitually thought was clearly , he admitted , of a higher grade than himself , and he had no objection whatever to proclaim his own inferiority . Egremont , talking with him , was half disposed to envy Jack Tyrrell . What a simple thing life was with limitless cash , a perfect digestion , and good-humour in the place of brains ! His room seemed very cold and lonely when he got back to it shortly before midnight . The fire had been let out ; the books round the walls had a musty appearance ; there was stale tobacco in the air . He paced the floor , thinking of Annabel , wondering whether she would soon be in London , longing to see her . And before he went to bed , he wrote a letter to Mr. Newthorpe , expressing the anxiety with which he had heard of his illness .