noon
It was a remark which Anne had heard a good many times before and mostly heard with equanimity . But on this occasion -- perhaps because they had come so unexpectedly , perhaps for some other reason -- the words provoked in her a certain surprised commotion . `` My poor Denis , '' she managed to say , with a laugh ; but she was blushing as she spoke . It was noon . Denis , descending from his chamber , where he had been making an unsuccessful effort to write something about nothing in particular , found the drawing-room deserted . He was about to go out into the garden when his eye fell on a familiar but mysterious object -- the large red notebook in which he had so often seen Jenny quietly and busily scribbling . She had left it lying on the window-seat .