four o'clock
Kissing him a sleepy good - night , Honor left the room , henceforth haunted by the spirits of her earliest conceptions of love , and went silently , almost gloomily , up to her own handsome little room , bringing to her friendly pillow all the hazardous hopes and fears , and interesting experiences of a love unborn but well conceived . In the gray of the following morning , the angels of slumber on their upward flight must have borne one another an interesting message , for Honor 's guardian spirit had noted the happy smile creeping over her face , as in her dreams she saw the noble hero of her waking reverie -- and Guy , as he tossed restlessly on his pillow , betrayed to his `` silent watcher '' a heart overflowing with a new-born love for a creature to whom he had yet spoken no word . And how those angels must have smiled , knowing , as they did , that ` ere another day had passed those two would have met , to recognize in one another the destiny of each ! `` It will soon be four o'clock , '' Honor said to herself on the afternoon of this same day , looking , as she spoke , towards the delicately tinted window-sill . She had whiled away so many afternoons in this little _ boudoir _ , or family sitting room , that she could tell by the progress of the sun on the broad sill when to expect Mr. Rayne home from his office . `` He will be here in half-an-hour , '' she soliloquized , then looking aimlessly around for distraction , Honor spied a half-knitted stocking and a ponderous looking pair of gold-mounted spectacles lying carefully on a side table . Smiling mischievously , she adjusted the glasses , very low down on her nose , for of course she can see much better _ over _ than through them , and unwinding a yard or two of the wool , tucked the ball professionally under her arm , and began slowly to penetrate the intricate mysteries of `` narrowing the gore . ''