a quarter past eleven
Inside there was hearty feasting , such as had not been seen there , for aught I know , since the day when the king came back to `` enjoy his own again . '' The one old cup , relic of the Middle Ages , which had survived the civil wars , -- St. Ambrose 's had been a right loyal college , and the plate had gone without a murmur into Charles the First 's war-chest , -- went round and round ; and rival crews pledged one another out of it , and the massive tankards of a later day , in all good faith and good fellowship . Mailed knights , grave bishops , royal persons of either sex , and `` other our benefactors , '' looked down on the scene from their heavy gilded frames , and , let us hope , not unkindly . All passed off well and quietly ; the out-college men were gone , the lights were out , and the butler had locked the hall door by a quarter past eleven , and the Dean returned in peace to his own rooms . Had Tom been told a week before that he would not have enjoyed that night , that it would not have been amongst the happiest and proudest of his life , he would have set his informer down as a madman . As it was , he never once rose to the spirit of the feast , and wished it all over a dozen times . He deserved not to enjoy it ; but not so Hardy , who was nevertheless almost as much out of tune as Tom ; though the University coxswain had singled him out , named him in his speech , sat by him and talked to him for a quarter of an hour , and asked him to go to the Henley and Thames regattas in the Oxford crew .