twenty-five minutes to seven
At twenty-five minutes to seven , she went into Mrs. Orgreave 's bedroom , rather like a child , and also rather like an adult creature in a distracting crisis . Tom Orgreave and Alicia were filling the entire house with the stormy noise of a piano duet based upon Rossini 's _ William Tell _ . `` I think I 'll miss tea , Mrs. Orgreave , '' she said . `` Edwin Clayhanger invited me to go over the printing-works at half-past six , and it 's twenty-five minutes to seven now . '' `` Oh , but , my dear , '' cried Mrs. Orgreave , `` why ever did n't you tell them downstairs , or let me know earlier ? '' And she pulled at the bell-rope that overhung the head of the bed . Not a trace of teasing archness in her manner !