midnight
The tall figure disappeared . Emma 's taxi crept into the stream . But uppermost in her mind was not the thought of Serbians , uniforms , Fisk , or Ritz , but of her husband 's right hand , which , as he turned away from the cab , had been folded tight into a fist . She meant to ask an explanation of the clenched fingers ; but the Serbians , despite their four tragic years , turned out to be as sprightly as their uniforms , and it was past midnight when the Fannings dropped her at her door . Her husband was rather ostentatiously asleep . As she doffed her warlike garments , her feminine canniness warned her that this was no time for explanations . Tomorrow morning would be better .