seven o'clock
The gnats came out to dance , and at their dancing , every sound and scent and shape became the sounds and scents and shapes of evening ; and there was evening in the Squire 's heart . Slowly and stiffly he got up from the log and mounted to ride home . It would be just as lonely when he got there , but a house is better than a wood , where the gnats dance , the birds and creatures stir and stir , and shadows lengthen ; where the sun steals upwards on the tree-stems , and all is careless of its owner , Man . It was past seven o'clock when he went to his study . There was a lady standing at the window , and Mr. Pendyce said : `` I beg your pardon ? '' The lady turned ; it was his wife . The Squire stopped with a hoarse sound , and stood silent , covering his eyes with his hand .