five minutes past eight
Why were women so impatient of each other ? Old Mr. Bowdoin felt vaguely that it was they who were responsible for the social platform ; and he looked at his watch . Heavens ! five minutes past eight ! Mr. Bowdoin got up hurriedly , and , nodding to the orange-woman , shuffled into his house . But it was too late ; Mrs. Bowdoin sat rigid behind the coffee-urn . Harley looked up with a twinkle in his eye .