the hour of eleven
He had no desire to sleep . His light was turned low , and his window was open again , for the night had cleared . Never had air tasted sweeter to him than that which came in through his window . The little bell in his watch tinkled the hour of eleven , when he heard Cardigan 's door close for a last time across the hall . After that everything was quiet . He drew himself nearer to the window , so that by leaning forward he could rest himself partly on the sill . He loved the night .