eleven o'clock
For the second time in my life I lay in a hospital , suffering from concussion of the brain . Almost twelve hours passed before I first regained consciousness , and the morning of the following day was well advanced before I was able to inform the hospital authorities of my identity . No papers , nothing but a handful of silver , had been found in my pockets . At eleven o'clock that morning there was solemnised at St. Margaret 's Church the marriage of Cynthia and Charles Barthrop . ` If you call , I will come . ' But I had not called . I had even left Cynthia to pace to and fro through an afternoon in the park ; at that most critical juncture in both our lives I had failed her .