eleven o'clock
Upon whatever he had come in contact with , he had left a beautiful record of the experience -- a sort of ethereal signature ; a scent , a sound , a color that was his own . Steavens understood now the real tragedy of his master 's life ; neither love nor wine , as many had conjectured , but a blow which had fallen earlier and cut deeper than these could have done -- a shame not his , and yet so unescapably his , to bide in his heart from his very boyhood . And without -- the frontier warfare ; the yearning of a boy , cast ashore upon a desert of newness and ugliness and sordidness , for all that is chastened and old , and noble with traditions . At eleven o'clock the tall , flat woman in black crepe entered , announced that the watchers were arriving , and asked them `` to step into the dining room . '' As Steavens rose the lawyer said dryly : `` You go on -- it 'll be a good experience for you , doubtless ; as for me , I 'm not equal to that crowd tonight ; I 've had twenty years of them . '' As Steavens closed the door after him be glanced back at the lawyer , sitting by the coffin in the dim light , with his chin resting on his hand . The same misty group that had stood before the door of the express car shuffled into the dining room .