eight o'clock
There was an influx of guests . Mrs. Bullsom , reduced to a state of chaotic nervousness , was pushed as far into the background as possible by her daughters , and Mr. Bullsom , banished from the hearth where he felt surest of himself , plunged into a conversation with Mr. Seventon on the weather . Brooks leaned over towards Mary . `` Wednesday week at eight o'clock , then , '' he said . `` I want to have a chat with you about the subject . '' `` Not now , '' she interposed . `` You know these people , do n't you , and the Huntingdons ?