nearly midnight
From half-past eight to half-past nine he had spent in choir practice , because the organist was on his holiday . Slowly in the cool of the evening he had walked home , and fallen asleep in his chair on getting in . At eleven he had woken with a start , and , hardening his heart , had gone back to his sermon . And now , at nearly midnight , it was still less than twenty minutes long . He lighted one of his rare cigarettes , and let thought wander . How beautiful those pale pink roses were in that old silver bowl-like a little strange poem , or a piece of Debussy music , or a Mathieu Maris picture-reminding him oddly of the word Leila . Was he wrong in letting Noel see so much of Leila ?