eleven o'clock
Hers was a soul of swift and subtle sympathy . A word , a mere inflection , was sufficient to set in motion the most complicate and obscure conceptions in her brain , permitting her to comprehend with equal clarity the Egyptian queen of pleasure and the austere devotee to whom joy is a snare . From time to time she uttered little exclamations of pleasure , and at the end of each act motioned him to proceed , as if eager to get a unified impression . It was after eleven o'clock when he threw down the manuscript , and , white with emotion , awaited her verdict . She was tense with the strain , and her lashes were wet with tears , but her eyes were bright and her mind alert . She had already entered upon a new part , having been swept up into a region of resolution as far away from the pleasant hostess as from the heartless adventuress whose garments she had worn but the night before . With hands clasped between her knees , and shoulders laxly drooping , she brooded on the sorrows of his mimic world .