eight o'clock
Damn ! -- Wasser masser tongue ? '' Opening his fond and foggy eyes , and finding himself alone in the card-room , he began to cry ; and a little later , attempting to push the electric button , he fell over a lounge and lay there , his shirt-front soiled with wine , one fat leg trailing to the floor ; not the ideal position for slumber , perhaps , but what difference do attitudes and postures and poses make when a gentleman , in the sacred seclusion of his own club , is wooing the drowsy goddess with blasts of votive music through his empurpled nose ? In the meantime , however , he was due to dine at the Belwether house ; and when eight o'clock approached , and he had not returned to dress , Leila called up Sylvia Landis on the telephone : `` My dear , Leroy has n't returned , and I suppose he 's forgotten about the Bridge . I can bring Mr. Plank , if you like . '' `` Very well , '' said Sylvia , adding , `` if Mr. Plank is there , may I speak to him a moment ? '' So Leila rose , setting the receiver on the desk , and Plank came in from the library and settled himself heavily in the chair : `` Did you wish to speak to me , Miss Landis ? ''