Quarter past
eleven
So she waited in the little garden , looking up at the windows , praying that little Harry would wake up , or that the baby 's little acid wail would drift through the open window , and then the dim light bloom suddenly , and show a silhouette of Rose , tall and sweet in her wrapper , with a great rope of braid falling over one shoulder . But moments went by , and there was no sound . Norma went to the street lamp a hundred feet away and looked at her wrist watch . Quarter past eleven ; it was useless to wait any longer ; it had been a senseless quest from the beginning . She went back to the city by train and boat , crying desolately in the darkness above the ploughing of the invisible waters . She cried with pity for herself , for it seemed to her that life was very unfair to her . `` Is it _ my _ fault that I inherit all that money ? ''