eighteen
minutes to four
But it was not of this that I was thinking . I was wishing I had not degenerated so much . Well , as you know , the little nursery governess did not die . At eighteen minutes to four we heard the rustle of David 's wings . He boasts about it to this day , and has the hour to a syllable as if the first thing he ever did was to look at the clock . An oldish gentleman had opened the door and waved congratulations to my companion , who immediately butted at me , drove me against a wall , hesitated for a second with his head down as if in doubt whether to toss me , and then rushed away . I followed slowly .