noon
His knowledge of wickedness was really absurdly limited . For the first time he felt slightly ashamed of it , and began to wish he had gone into the militia . He comforted himself with the thought that in a fortnight he would probably be fit for the regular army . This thought cheered him slightly , and it was with a slight smile upon his face that he welcomed the first glimpse of the _ Général Bertrand _ , which was lying against the quay ready to cast off at the stroke of noon . Most of the passengers were aboard , but , as Mr. Greyne stepped out of his cab , and prepared to pay the Maltese driver , a trim little lady , plainly dressed in black , and carrying a tiny and rather coquettish hand-bag , was tripping lightly across the gangway . Mr. Greyne glanced at her as he turned to follow , glanced , and then started . That back was surely familiar to him .