midnight
Tom obeyed his professional friend -- took his medicine , read the paper , and slept away the best part of the dull March day . At half-past five he got up and dressed for dinner , and the evening passed very pleasantly -- so pleasantly , indeed , that Georgy was half inclined to wish that her husband might be afflicted with chronic influenza , whereby he would be compelled to stop at home . She sighed when Philip Sheldon slapped his friend 's broad shoulder , and told him cheerily that he would be `` all right to-morrow . '' He would be well again , and there would be more midnight roistering , and she would be again tormented by that vision of lighted halls and beautiful diabolical creatures revolving madly to the music of the Post-horn Galop . It seemed , however , that poor jealous Mrs. Halliday was to be spared her nightly agony for some time to come . Tom 's cold lasted longer than he had expected , and the cold was succeeded by a low fever -- a bilious fever , Mr. Sheldon said . There was not the least occasion for alarm , of course .