five o'clock
`` Is it true that you are a descendant of that aristocratic old Rip ? '' Corky could n't help blushing . He begged her not to get her Van Winkles mixed , and she tapped him on the knuckles with her pearl-studded fan . At five o'clock that morning , Corky stood before the mirror in his bed-chamber and stared very intently at his somewhat wavering features . Notwithstanding the champagne , he recognised a very stern resolve in the reflection . `` I 'm going to marry that woman , '' he said with grave precision . He went about it deliberately .