quarter past eleven
The girl laughed at the recital of our misadventures , and the tears came into her eyes when I touched on my boyish affection for my playmate . Then she told me of her own life , so peaceful and happy in the little village , and in the neighboring town , where she had been educated with all the care and diligence of the New England impulse . I looked at my watch . `` It is quarter past eleven , '' I said ruefully , `` and my train left at ten . '' `` There 's another train at three , '' she replied . `` You will go home and dine with us ? We dine at twelve in the country , you know . ''