midnight
Sybilla was a good walker ; the last yellow line of the watery February sunset had hardly faded as she tripped up the long drive under the gaunt , tossing trees . Mr. Edwards still lounged in elegant leisure in the hall , conversing with a gigantic young footman , and his fishy eyes kindled for the second time as Sybilla appeared , flushed and bright and sparkling , after her windy , twilight walk . `` I have outstripped the storm after all , you see , '' she remarked as she went by . `` I do n't believe we shall have it before midnight . Oh , Claudine ! is my lady in her room ? I have been on an errand for her down the village . ''