a quarter past eight
Calexico was getting to be quite a little city , and the string of lights were flung out for half a mile to the east and north . Across the line the high-arched sign of the Red Owl already winked alluringly . He looked at his watch . It was only a quarter past eight . He turned back to his room , took his violin from the battered trunk , went to the garage , and in fifteen minutes was chugging south between the rows of cottonwood and willows that stood dim guardians in the night against the desert . Imogene Chandler heard the machine coming . She put on her new spring coat and came out into the yard .