midnight
He found the Torquay , a place of brilliant illumination and color , packed with tables about a dancing floor , and small insistent orchestra . He sat against the wall by the entrance , apparently sunk in apathy , but his vision searched the crowd like the cutting bar of light thrown on the intermittent singers . He renewed his order . Toward midnight a fresh influx of people swept in ; his search was unsatisfied . The cigarette girl , pinkly pretty with an exaggerated figure , carrying a wooden tray with her wares , stopped at his gesture . `` Why do n't you hang that about your neck with something ? '' he inquired .