midnight
` Why is it , ' said the old gentleman , coming up a step higher , and leaning his elbows on the wall , with as much complacency as if he were looking out of window , ` why is it that beauty is always obdurate , even when admiration is as honourable and respectful as mine ? ' Here he smiled , kissed his hand , and made several low bows . ` Is it owing to the bees , who , when the honey season is over , and they are supposed to have been killed with brimstone , in reality fly to Barbary and lull the captive Moors to sleep with their drowsy songs ? Or is it , ' he added , dropping his voice almost to a whisper , ` in consequence of the statue at Charing Cross having been lately seen , on the Stock Exchange at midnight , walking arm-in-arm with the Pump from Aldgate , in a riding-habit ? ' ` Mama , ' murmured Kate , ` do you hear him ? ' ` Hush , my dear ! ' replied Mrs. Nickleby , in the same tone of voice , ` he is very polite , and I think that was a quotation from the poets .