eleven in the morning
After all , were not man and woman , disguise the fact as one might , condemned by nature to mutual hostility ? Useless to attempt rational methods with beings to whom reason was fundamentally repugnant . Dyce fell from mortification into anger , and cursed the poverty which forbade him to act in full accordance with his ideal of conduct . He had spent nearly a fortnight at Rivenoak , when Lady Ogram , now seemingly restored to her ordinary health , summoned him at eleven in the morning to the green drawing-room . `` I hope I did n't disturb your work , '' she began , kindly . `` As you are leaving so soon -- '' Dyce had said nothing whatever about departure -- `` I should like to have a quiet word with you , whilst Constance is in the town . All goes well at Hollingford , does n't it ? ''