eleven o'clock
It was , then , her surface which took them ; what her soul received was a distillation , an essence . Then one night I had all made plain . She entranced me on a summer night of stillness , under a full yellow moon . I was working late , till past ten , past eleven o'clock , and looking out of my open window suddenly was aware of her at hers . The shutter was down , both wings of it , and she stood hovering , seen at full length , above the street . She ! Could this be she ?