midnight
Quentin 's composure was shaken but once in the fortnight of pleasure preceding Dorothy 's departure for Paris . That was when she indignantly , almost tearfully , called his attention to the squib in a London society journal which rather daringly prophesied a `` break in the Ravorelli-Garrison match , '' and referred plainly to the renewal of an `` across-the-Atlantic affection . '' When he wrathfully promised to thrash the editor of the paper , she shocked him by saying that he had created `` enough of a sensation , '' and he went home with the dazed feeling of one who has suffered an unexpected blow . On the evening before the Garrisons crossed the channel , Lord and Lady Saxondale and Philip Quentin found themselves long after midnight in talk about the coming marriage . Quentin was rather silent . His thoughts seemed far from the room in which he sat , and there was the shadow of a new line about the corners of his mouth . `` I am going to Brussels next week , '' he said , deliberately .