about eleven o'clock
`` Send the boys away ; there 's nothing more to be done , '' he said . They turned back towards the shack , and after a few minutes Jake remarked : `` It will be a relief when this business is over . My nerves are getting ragged . '' It was about eleven o'clock on a hot morning and Kenwardine , who had adopted native customs , was leisurely getting his breakfast in the patio . Two or three letters lay among the fruit and wine , but he did not mean to open them yet . He was something of a sybarite and the letters might blunt his enjoyment of the well-served meal . Clare , who had not eaten much , sat opposite , watching him .