twenty-five minutes to eleven
Yes , ' I answered . This was only roughly true , for I could not have stated in words all the pros and cons that I had balanced . It was an impulse that drove me forward ; but an impulse founded on reason , with just a tinge , perhaps , of superstition ; for the quest had begun in a fog and might fitly end in one . It was twenty-five minutes to eleven when we noiselessly pushed off . ` Let her drift , ' whispered Davies , ` the ebb 'll carry her past the pier . ' We slid by the _ Dulcibella _ , and she disappeared . Then we sat without speech or movement for about five minutes , while the gurgle of tide through piles approached and passed .