one o’clock
It brought with it a vision of the dank coffee-room below , the sooty Smyrna rug , the rain on the sky-light , the listless waitresses handing about food that tasted as if it had been rained on too . There was really no reason why she should let such material miseries add to her depression ... . She sprang up , put on her hat and jacket , and calling for a taxi drove to the London branch of the Nouveau Luxe hotel . It was just one o'clock and she was sure to pick up a luncheon , for though London was empty that great establishment was not . It never was . Along those sultry velvet-carpeted halls , in that great flowered and scented dining-room , there was always a come-and-go of rich aimless people , the busy people who , having nothing to do , perpetually pursue their inexorable task from one end of the earth to the other . Oh , the monotony of those faces -- the faces one always knew , whether one knew the people they belonged to or not !