five minutes past eight
Passepartout understood , and his big , round face became as radiant as the tropical sun at its zenith . Mr. Fogg asked him if it was not too late to notify the Reverend Samuel Wilson , of Marylebone parish , that evening . Passepartout smiled his most genial smile , and said , `` Never too late . '' It was five minutes past eight . `` Will it be for tomorrow , Monday ? '' `` For tomorrow , Monday , '' said Mr. Fogg , turning to Aouda . `` Yes , for tomorrow , Monday , '' she replied .