eight o'clock
There were many little balconies high above the street and they were as brilliantly lit as for a festival . From several came the sound of raucous instrumental music or that same thin chant as of lost souls wandering in outer darkness . The street was thronged with Chinamen of the lower caste in dark blue cotton smocks , pendent pigtails , and round coolie hats . It was eight o'clock , but it was Holt 's `` night off '' and as he had told her that morning he could get a pass for the dinner , and that it was time she `` changed her bill , '' she had risen early and met him at her door . It was apparent that she took a lively interest in this bit of Shanghai but a step out of the Occident , for her face had lost its heavy brooding and she asked him many questions . It was an hour before Masters ' name was mentioned , and then she said abruptly : `` You tell me much of his life out here and before he came , but you hardly ever say anything about the present . '' `` That sort of life is much of a muchness . ''