ten o'clock
Compressing her lips , Bianca ran downstairs . Startled by his tale , she would have taken his wet body in her arms ; if the ghosts of innumerable moments had not stood between . So this moment passed too , and itself became a ghost . Mr. Stone , greatly to his disgust , had not succeeded in resuming work at ten o'clock . Failing simply because he could not stand on his legs , he had announced his intention of waiting until half-past three , when he should get up , in preparation for the coming of the little girl . Having refused to see a doctor , or have his temperature taken , it was impossible to tell precisely what degree of fever he was in . In his cheeks , just visible over the blankets , there was more colour than there should have been ; and his eyes , fixed on the ceiling , shone with suspicious brilliancy .