eleven o’clock
I promise you . Bind me strictly to my word . ' ` I lull a fancy , trouble-tost . ' Miss Swancourt , it is eleven o'clock . ' She was looking out of her dressing-room window on the first floor , and Knight was regarding her from the terrace balustrade , upon which he had been idly sitting for some time -- dividing the glances of his eye between the pages of a book in his hand , the brilliant hues of the geraniums and calceolarias , and the open window above-mentioned . ` Yes , it is , I know . I am coming . '