midnight
`` The good Lord knows I would if I had the chance like she has . '' As he came in sight of the Hardwick house , he checked momentarily . Standing at the gate , an astonishing figure , still in her evening frock , looking haggard and old in the gray , disillusioning light of early morning , was Lydia Sessions . Upstairs , her white bed was smooth ; its pillows spread fair and prim , unpressed by any head , since the maid had settled them trimly in place the morning before ; but the long rug which ran from her dressing table to the window might have told a tale of pacing feet that passed restlessly from midnight till dawn ; the mirror could have disclosed the picture of a white , anxious , and often angry face that had stared into it as the woman paused now and again to commune with the real Lydia Sessions . She was thirty and penniless . She belonged to a circle where everybody had money . Her sister had married well , and Harriet was no better-looking than she .