three o’clock in the morning
_ Isabel -LRB- drawing back -RRB- _ . It 's time to go and dress . I think you said the black gown with spangles ? It was three o'clock in the morning , and the cotillion was at its height , when Woburn left the over-heated splendor of the Gildermere ballroom , and after a delay caused by the determination of the drowsy footman to give him a ready-made overcoat with an imitation astrachan collar in place of his own unimpeachable Poole garment , found himself breasting the icy solitude of the Fifth Avenue . He was still smiling , as he emerged from the awning , at his insistence in claiming his own overcoat : it illustrated , humorously enough , the invincible force of habit . As he faced the wind , however , he discerned a providence in his persistency , for his coat was fur-lined , and he had a cold voyage before him on the morrow . It had rained hard during the earlier part of the night , and the carriages waiting in triple line before the Gildermeres ' door were still domed by shining umbrellas , while the electric lamps extending down the avenue blinked Narcissus-like at their watery images in the hollows of the sidewalk .