Seven o'clock
Not a day , nor a night , shall there be , the history of which you might not read . '' All my own pride was stirred as I looked at the portrait of this woman , who , I knew , was absolutely pure , and I would not now have followed Howard had my life depended on it . I gave the photograph of Faina , which still stood up against the wall , a flick that sent it horizontal on the marble , and then , with Lucia 's eyes just above me , I sat down to write . Seven o'clock came , and the bright light pouring into the room over the table covered with loose sheets of paper found me writing still . I looked up , then back on the page , decided I need not add another word , flung down my pen , leaned back in my chair , and proceeded to light up a cigar . `` Good ! '' I thought with lazy satisfaction , as my eyes wandered over the completely covered table and the drying sheets upon the floor .