five o'clock
She was sorry for him -- and very kind . His touchy pride recoiled , reading into her letter what she had never dreamt of putting into it , just because of the absence of that something -- that old tremor -- those old signs of his influence over her , which , of course , she would never let him see again . All the same he had replied at once , asking if he might come and say good-bye before she left Scarfedale . And she had sent him a telegram -- `` Delighted -- to-morrow -- five o'clock . '' And he was going -- out of a kind of recklessness -- kind of obstinate recoil against the sorrowful or depressing circumstance of life . He had given up all thoughts of trying to win her back , even if there were any chance of it . His pride would not let him sue as a pauper ; and of course the Langmoors to whom she was going -- he understood -- from Scarfedale , would take good care she did not throw herself away .