the
hour of three
We 'll have one more rubber , and then stop . '' `` Oh , do n't stop , '' replied Honora ; `` please play as long as you like . '' They did n't stop -- at least after one more rubber . Honora , as she lay in the darkness , looking through the open square of her window at the silver stars , heard their voiced and their laughter floating up at intervals from below , and the little clock on her mantel had struck the hour of three when the scraping of chairs announced the breaking up of the party . And even after that an unconscionable period elapsed , beguiled , undoubtedly , by anecdotes ; spells of silence -- when she thought they had gone -- ending in more laughter . Finally there was a crash of breaking glass , a climax of uproarious mirth , and all was still ... She could not have slept much , but the birds were singing when she finally awoke , the sunlight pouring into her window : And the hands of her clock pointed to half-past seven when she rang her bell . It was a relief to breakfast alone , or at least to sip her coffee in solitude .