Nine o'clock
Then the charred fire-log sagged down into the ashes with a sad , puffing sigh . Then a whole row of books on a loosely packed shelf toppled over on each other with soft jocose slaps . Crawling back into his Morris chair with every bone in his body aching like a magnetized wire-skeleton charged with pain , Stanton collapsed again into his pillows and sat staring -- staring into the dying fire . Nine o'clock rang out dully from the nearest church spire ; ten o'clock , eleven o'clock followed in turn with monotonous , chiming insistency . Gradually the relaxing steam-radiators began to grunt and grumble into a chill quietude . Gradually along the bare , bleak stretches of unrugged floor little cold draughts of air came creeping exploringly to his feet . And still he sat staring -- staring into the fast graying ashes .