half after seven
It was late afternoon in the drawing room of Miss Wardrop 's house in Washington Square . The short November dusk was fading into night , and outside in the old Square , the street lights gleamed in the frosty air . In the fireplace , before which two people were sitting , a wood fire crackled , throwing fantastic shadows about the old room . Dinner at Miss Wardrop 's was at half after seven . Just why Mr. Smith should have considered it necessary to drop in , on his way home from the Guardian , could no doubt have been better explained had his face not been shaded by his hand . The face in the room best worth seeing , however , was not so shaded , and Smith manifested no displeasure at the fact . He himself sat on the chimney seat , and he appeared to be less talkative than usual .