midnight
His self-command enabled Clifford to hold his head safely under some running water , and repair to the street considerably the worse for wear , but never suspecting that his companion was drunk . For a time he kept his self-command . His face was only a bit paler , a bit tighter than usual ; he was only a trifle slower and more fastidious in his speech . It was midnight when he left Clifford peacefully slumbering in somebody 's arm-chair , with a long suede glove dangling in his hand and a plumy boa twisted about his neck to protect his throat from drafts . He walked through the hall and down the stairs , and found himself on the sidewalk in a quarter he did not know . Mechanically he looked up at the name of the street . The name was not familiar .