midnight
`` Would n't they stare if they knew what idiocy we 're up to ! '' she suggested . Mr. Wrenn bobbed his head in entire agreement . He was trying , without any slightest success , to make himself believe that Mr. William Wrenn , Our Mr. Wrenn , late of the Souvenir Company , was starting out for a country tramp at midnight with an artist girl . The night foreman of the station , a person of bedizenment and pride , stared at them as they alighted at Chelmsford and glanced around like strangers . Mr. Wrenn stared back defiantly and marched with Istra from the station , through the sleeping town , past its ragged edges , into the country . They tramped on , a bit wearily .