three o'clock
Nevill went away , and Jimmie remained to comfort his friend . But there was no consolation for Jack , whose bitter mood had turned to dull despair and grief that would be more poignant in the morning , when he would be better able to comprehend the fell blow that had shattered his happiness and crushed his ambitions and dreams . He refused pipe and cigars . Until three o'clock he sat staring vacantly at the floor , seemingly oblivious of Jimmie 's presence , and occasionally helping himself to brandy . At last he fell asleep in the chair , and Jimmie , who had with difficulty kept his eyes open , dozed away on the couch . Meanwhile , Victor Nevill had driven straight to his rooms in Jermyn street and had gone to bed . He rose about ten o'clock , and after a light breakfast he sat down and wrote a short letter , cleverly disguising his own hand , and imitating the scrawly penmanship and bad spelling of an illiterate woman .