eight o'clock
She had made friends -- real friends -- in these three months , after years of loneliness . It seemed to her that was all that mattered . And half guiltily her memory cherished those astonishing words -- '' _ Mr. Alcott _ and I miss you very much . '' A drizzling rain had begun when towards eight o'clock they heard the sound of a motor coming up the Bettws road . Lucy retreated into the inn , while Helena stood at the gate waiting . Buntingford waved to her as they approached , then jumped out and followed her into the twilight of the inn parlour . `` My dear Helena ! ''