about nine o'clock in the
evening
Only between her and it -- between her and him -- as she lay awake through broken nights , some barrier rose -- dark and impassable . She knew it for the barrier of her own unconquered fear . On this same Sunday night before the date fixed for the Suffrage debate , a slender woman , in a veil and a waterproof , opened the gate of a small house in the Brixton Road . It was about nine o'clock in the evening . The pavements were wet with rain , and a gusty wind was shrieking through the smutty almond and alder trees along the road which had ventured to put out their poor blossoms and leaves in the teeth of this February gale . The woman stood and looked at the house after shutting the gate , as though uncertain whether she had found what she was looking for . But the number 453 , on the dingy door , could be still made out by the light of the street opposite , and she mounted the steps .