eleven o'clock
`` Who lives in that salmon-pink pagoda just this side of the curve ? '' Trouble sat dark and heavy upon the handsome features of Mr. Preston Fairfax Fitzhugh Carroll , but he was too experienced to put a direct query to his inamorata . What suspicion he had , he cherished until after dinner , when he took it to the club and made it the foundation of certain inquiries . Thus it happened that at eleven o'clock that evening , he paused before a bench in the plaza , bowered in the bloom of creepers which flowed down from a balcony of the Kast , and occupied by the comfortably sprawled-out form of Mr. Thomas Cluff , who was making a burnt offering to Morpheus . `` Good-evening ! '' said Mr. Carroll pleasantly . `` Evenin ' !