five o'clock
Mr. STONE -LRB- suddenly -RRB- : `` There has been no church worth going to since A. D. 700 . '' The LITTLE MODEL : `` But he does n't go . '' And with a flying glance through the just open door Hilary saw her holding bread-and-butter with inky fingers , her lips a little parted , expecting the next bite , and her eyes fixed curiously on Mr. Stone , whose transparent hand held a teacup , and whose eyes were immovably fixed on distance . It was one day in April that Mr. Stone , heralded by the scent of Harris tweed and baked potatoes which habitually encircled him , appeared at five o'clock in Hilary 's study doorway . `` She has not come , '' he said . Hilary laid down his pen . It was the first real Spring day .