midnight
Good-night . '' The man departed , and Wharton , going to the window which opened on a balcony looking over St. James Street , threw it wide , and smoked a cigarette leaning against the wall . It was on the whole a fine night and warm , though the nip of the east wind was not yet out of the air . In the street below there was still a good deal of movement , for it was only just past midnight and the clubs were not yet empty . To his right the turreted gate-house of the Palace with its clock rose dark against a sky covered with light , windy cloud . Beyond it his eye sought instinctively for the Clock Tower , which stood to-night dull and beaconless -- like some one in a stupid silence . That light of the sitting House had become to him one of the standing pleasures of life .