nine o'clock
There came the clatter of dishes from the wrecks of the rite in the kitchen , accompanied by the warm perfume of dishwater . But , little by little the high stars came out , and the gray veil fell gently over unloveliness and squalour ; little by little the raucous voices were hushed ; the scuffle and clatter and the stringy noise of the piano died away , till , distantly , the wind awoke in the woods , and very far away the rushing music of a little brook sweetened the silence . Rita , who had been reading yesterday 's paper by the lamplight which streamed over her shoulder from the open parlour-window , sighed , stifled a yawn , laid the paper aside , and drew her pretty wrap around her shoulders . `` It 's absurd , '' she said , plaintively , `` but in this place I become horribly sleepy by nine o'clock . You wo n't mind if I go up , will you ? '' `` Not if you feel that way about it , '' he said , smiling . `` Oh , Rita ! ''