nine o'clock
The poor dear has had a dreadful time ! '' The Rector looked at her , but did not speak ; then abruptly he brushed past her in the doorway , hurried into his study and locked the door . Then , and then only , he kneeled down , and remained there many minutes , thinking of nothing . That same evening at nine o'clock , sitting over the last glass of a pint of port , Mr. Barter felt an irresistible longing for enjoyment , an impulse towards expansion and his fellow-men . Taking his hat and buttoning his coat -- for though the June evening was fine the easterly breeze was eager -- he walked towards the village . Like an emblem of that path to God of which he spoke on Sundays , the grey road between trim hedges threaded the shadow of the elm-trees where the rooks had long since gone to bed . A scent of wood-smoke clung in the air ; the cottages appeared , the forge , the little shops facing the village green .