eleven o'clock
`` Harold ! '' she exclaimed , smiling outright this time , `` you will be trying to analyze the cobwebs of heaven before long . '' `` No , '' he said , `` they are too dense . '' It was eleven o'clock when they parted for the night . Dartmouth went up to his room and sat down at his desk to write a letter to his father . In a moment he threw down the pen ; he was not in a humor for writing . He picked up a book -LRB- he never went to bed until he felt sleepy -RRB- , and crossed the room and sat down before the fire .