seven o'clock
`` I left the room by the veranda door , because he bade me do so , to avoid what he termed ` the prying of servants . ' I broke some clusters of chrysanthemums blooming in the rose garden , to carry to my mother , and then I hurried away . If the wages of disobedience be death , then fate reversed the mandate , and obedience exacts my life as a forfeit . Think of it : I had ample time to reach the station before seven o'clock , and if I had gone straight on , all would have been well . I should have taken the 7.15 train , and left forever this horrible place . If I had not loitered , I should have seen once more my mother 's face , have escaped shame , despair , ruin -- oh ! the blessedness of what ` might have been ! '