seven in the evening
He smoked the cigarette slowly , inhaling as much of the smoke as he could . This quieted him for an hour , but he had the folly to smoke again at the end of that time , and at once -- as he might have known -- was hungry again . Until dark he struggled along , drinking water continually , chewing chips of wood , toothpicks , bits of straw , anything so that the action of his jaws might cheat the demands of his stomach . Toward half-past seven in the evening he returned to his room in the Reno House . If he could get to sleep that would be best of all . On the stairs of the hotel , while going up to his room , the strong smell of cooking onions came suddenly to his nostrils . It was delicious .