Two o'clock
She shook a mournful head , sadly envisaging the loveliness of the world through a mist of facile tears ; that was too exquisitely , too poignantly true of her own plight ; for , wholly as it was , her life could never be again . And not for worlds would she have had it otherwise . Below , in the deserted drawing-room , a time-mellowed clock chimed sonorously the hour of two . Two o'clock of a Sunday morning , and all well ; long since Gosnold House had lapsed into decent silence ; an hour ago she had heard the last laggard footsteps , the last murmured good nights in the corridor outside her door as the men-folk took themselves reluctantly off to their beds . She leaned still farther out over the sill , peering along the gleaming white facade ; no window showed a light that she could see . She listened acutely ; not a sound but the muttering of fretful little waves and the drowsy complaint of some bird troubled in its sleep . Of all that heedless human company , it seemed , she alone remained awake .