a
quarter past seven
`` They would n't be half bad , would they ? Have some ? '' Clint nodded and four rather sad-looking rings of pastry appeared . It was still only a quarter past seven and , since they could not continue their journey before nine-forty-six , they consumed the crullers and their second cups of coffee more leisurely . The little restaurant began to get pretty smoky , and the combined odours of a dozen breakfasts , now that they had completed their own repasts , failed to delight them . But they stayed on , hating the thought of the walk to the station , quite satisfied to remain there without moving in the warmth and cheerful bustle . If they could have laid their heads against the wall and gone to sleep they 'd have asked nothing more .