seventeen minutes
past eleven
Both had been somewhat awkward , of course . She had been made awkward by her not wishing to receive the news in too cavalier a fashion or to seem to have connived and Polly had been made awkward not merely because allusions of that kind always made her awkward but also because she did not wish it to be thought that in her wise innocence she had divined the intention behind her mother 's tolerance . Mrs Mooney glanced instinctively at the little gilt clock on the mantelpiece as soon as she had become aware through her revery that the bells of George 's Church had stopped ringing . It was seventeen minutes past eleven : she would have lots of time to have the matter out with Mr Doran and then catch short twelve at Marlborough Street . She was sure she would win . To begin with she had all the weight of social opinion on her side : she was an outraged mother . She had allowed him to live beneath her roof , assuming that he was a man of honour , and he had simply abused her hospitality .