midnight
Her family might pass the grave of Chloe without weeping , without moralizing . They had foreseen her ruin , they had foretold it , they noised it in the waters , and on they sped to the plains , telling the world of their prophecy , and making what was untold as yet a lighter thing to do . The lamps in an irregularly dotted line underneath the hill beckoned her to her task of appearing as the gayest of them that draw their breath for the day and have pulses for the morrow . At midnight the great supper party to celebrate the reconciliation of Mr. Beamish and Duchess Susan broke up , and beneath a soft fair sky the ladies , with their silvery chatter of gratitude for amusement , caught Chloe in their arms to kiss her , rendering it natural for their cavaliers to exclaim that Chloe was blest above mortals . The duchess preferred to walk . Her spirits were excited , and her language smelt of her origin , but the superb fleshly beauty of the woman was aglow , and crying , ` I declare I should burst in one of those boxes -- just as if you 'd stalled me ! ' she fanned a wind on her face , and sumptuously spread her spherical skirts , attended by the vanquished and captive Colonel Poltermore , a gentleman manifestly bent on insinuating sly slips of speech to serve for here a pinch of powder , there a match .