A quarter past five
`` More judgments ? '' she cried with a laugh , turning to look at me , the straight brows raised in mockery . `` Which will cost you more , my fair Olympian , than a glad eye . '' A quarter past five . The train was passing through the outskirts of London . A bare ten minutes more , and we should arrive . I looked anxiously at the girl , wondering where , when , how I should see her again .