six minutes to eight
And Tristram sat down upon the deep sofa on the broad landing outside her room , and waited : the concentrated essence of all the rage and pain he had yet suffered seemed to be now in his heart . But what had it meant -- that look of superb scorn ? She had no mien of a guilty person . At six minutes to eight she opened the door , and came out . She had simply flown into her clothes , in ten minutes ! Her eyes were still black as night with resentment , and her bosom rose and fell , while in her white cheeks two scarlet spots flamed . `` I am ready , '' she said , haughtily , `` let us go , '' and not waiting for her husband she swept on down the stairs , exactly as her uncle opened the library door .