Twenty past seven
But no ! It was he who stood on his dignity . He would stand there at meals , watchful of my slightest want , watchful of everybody 's wants , never saying a word , rigid as a statue . When his work was done he 'd disappear into his own room , which he shared with the Second Cabin Steward in the port alleyway , and I would n't see him again until seven bells in the morning , when he 'd come in with my tea , open the wash-basin , draw the water , set the towel , light the spirit-lamp , lay out my razors and say , ` Twenty past seven , sir . ' Me , his brother ! `` It gave me an insight , more than anything else could have done , into my brother 's character . I saw that his failure was not due to weakness , but to strength .