about nine o'clock
Of the enchantment that had drawn her in the beginning , she had not said a word . When it came to that they were both silent , as by a secret understanding and consent . They were both aware of his genius as a thing that was and was not his , a thing perpetually present with them but incommunicable , the very heart of their silence . One evening , calling about nine o'clock , he found her alone . She told him that Papa was very tired and had gone to bed . `` It is very good of you , '' she said , `` to come and sit with him . '' Prothero smiled quietly .