half past eleven
Above the hum of subdued office conversation the click of typewriting machines and the incessant buzzing of the desk telephones , he was conscious of hearing the same question repeated with monotonous fidelity : `` Hello ! What 's new with you ? '' And as surely , either through his own lips or the lips of another , the identical reply always came : `` Not a thing in the world ! '' At half past eleven he stopped deliberately and stood for a moment , nervously fingering his tie . He was thinking about the course of action that he had decided upon in that long , unusual vigil of the night before . His uncertainty lasted until the remembrance of his wife 's scornful question swept over him : `` Why are n't you doing something ? ... Everybody else is ! ''