nearly eight o'clock
Ah , if one could but pause to smile at one 's tragic moments , or still better , at one 's sublime ones . But it ca n't be done . A remembrancer would have to be engaged , to prevent lapses into the sublime , -- and how furious one would be when he nudged one , with his eternal : ` Beware ! ' '' It was nearly eight o'clock when the train plunged among the myriad lights of the great city . The brilliant beacon of the Eiffel Tower sat high up in the sky , like an exile star . Gaunt and grim was the vast station , with its freezing purplish electric light . Yet even here , to Hadria 's stirred imagination , there was a certain quality in the Titanic building , which removed it from the vulgarity of English utilitarian efforts of the same order .