eight o’clock
He recalled every word she uttered , every gesture she made . He was a man in love for the first time -- wholly , irremediably in love . I suppose that it was the pangs of hunger that first recalled him to himself . It was close on eight o'clock now , and he had fed on his imaginings -- first on anticipation , then on realisation , and lastly on memory -- during the best part of the day . Now he awoke from his day-dream to find himself tired and hungry , but fortunately not very far from that quarter of Paris where food is easily obtainable . He was somewhere near the Madeleine -- a quarter he knew well . Soon he saw in front of him a small eating-house which looked fairly clean and orderly .