quarter to three
At a knee-hole table Caspar Brooke was sitting , writing hard , as if for dear life , his loose hair falling heavily over his big forehead , his left hand grasping his thick brown beard . He looked up as Lesley entered , and gave her a nod . `` Good-morning , '' he said . `` Wait a minute : I must finish this and send it off by the quarter to three post . I have just done . '' He went on writing , and Lesley stood motionless beside the table , with a feeling of dire offence in her proud young heart . Why had he sent for her if he did not want her ?