the hour of three in the morning
Of course I found no lady in the room , but only a clock . I had not particularly noticed it on going to bed , because it looked like any other clock , and so now it continued to behave until the hands pointed to three . Then , instead of leaving me to infer the time from the arbitrary symbolism of three strokes on a bell , the same voice which had before electrified me informed me , in tones which would have lent a charm to the driest of statistical details , what the hour was . I had never before been impressed with any particular interest attaching to the hour of three in the morning , but as I heard it announced in those low , rich , thrilling contralto tones , it appeared fairly to coruscate with previously latent suggestions of romance and poetry , which , if somewhat vague , were very pleasing . Turning out the gas that I might the more easily imagine the bewitching presence which the voice suggested , I went back to bed , and lay awake there until morning , enjoying the society of my bodiless companion and the delicious shock of her quarter-hourly remarks . To make the illusion more complete and the more unsuggestive of the mechanical explanation which I knew of course was the real one , the phrase in which the announcement of the hour was made was never twice the same . Right was Solomon when he said that there was nothing new under the sun .