a quarter past two
I was to meet her at Charing-Cross station , and we were going to take an afternoon train down into Kent where Viola declared she knew of a lovely village of the real romantic kind . I had thought we ought to write or wire for rooms at a hotel beforehand , but Viola had been sure she would find what she wanted when we arrived , and she wished to choose a place herself . So there was nothing more to do . My suit-case was packed , and when the time came to a quarter past two I got into a hansom and drove to the station . Almost as soon as I got there , Viola drove up , punctual to the minute . She knew her own value to men too well to try and enhance it by always being late for an appointment as so many women do . She looked fresh and lovely in palest grey , her rose-tinted face radiant with excitement .