eleven o'clock
In the third act , when a half-crazed victim of the third degree is led out in shuddering and horrible invocation , she sprang to her feet for an instant , her gesture decrying its fullest arc . She was like Iphigenia praying for death , he thought . Later , when the shades of the prison house begin to dawn upon the stunned consciousness of the woman , there were tears in her voice and on her lashes , and one fell to the back of her hand , which she wiped off against her skirt , like a child . At eleven o'clock she finished , regarding him brilliantly through her flush . He had wanted to smoke , but thrust the case back into his pocket , sitting tilted , his hands locked at the back of his head and gazing at the line of the picture molding . Her lips parted as the paused held . `` Well ? ''