quarter to seven
He had written a letter of enormous length to Mary , explaining to her what had happened and telling her that he would come to her in the morning . It was very hard , even then , not to rush down to her , but he felt that he must keep that day at least sacred to his father . Would Robin come ? It was quarter to seven and that terrible sleep was beginning to overcome him again . The fire , the walls , the pictures , danced before his eyes ... the stories of the fishermen in the Cove came back to him ... the Four Stones and the man who had lost his way ... the red tiles and the black rafters of `` The Bended Thumb '' ... and then Mary 's beauty above it all . Mary on the moors with the wind blowing through her hair ; Mary in the house with the firelight on her face , Mary ... and then he suddenly started up , wide awake , for he heard steps on the stair . He knew them at once -- he never doubted that they were Robin 's .