nearly eleven o'clock at night
-LSB- Illustration : `` THE BLUE FLAME OF THE CHAFING-DISH '' . -RSB- Molly had produced excellent coffee ; the smoke of our cigarettes mingled its perfume with the night air . Our position had in it something unique , for while we were `` in the heart of one of nature 's most savage retreats '' -LRB- as said a guide-book of my boyhood -RRB- , we were at the same time enjoying the refinements of civilisation , and I suggested to Winston that our bivouac would form a fit subject for a picture labelled , in the manner of some Dutch masters , `` Automobilists Reposing . '' By the time Gotteland had packed up everything , and we were seated once more in the car , it was nearly eleven o'clock at night . Coming out from the shelter of our rock , so fierce a blast of wind smote us that Molly would , I think , have been carried off her feet had I not given her a steadying arm . We had to cram our caps on our heads , or the wind would have torn them from us , and the voice of the motor was swallowed up in the shrieking of the tempest . Molly was evidently destined to have her wish .