five o'clock
It 's strange , is n't it ? '' she croaked , with an alcoholic chuckle , `` how partial men are to full figures even after they have gone out of fashion ? '' And with this wonder still ringing in her ears , Gabriella turned away , to attend a customer , who demanded , in cool defiance of man and nature , to be transformed into a straight silhouette . Gabriella had not seen Judge Crowborough for several years , and her first impression , when she entered his office at five o'clock , was one of surprise at his ugliness . Though he had changed but little since their first meeting at Mrs. Fowler 's dinner , the years had softened her memory of his appearance , and she had skilfully persuaded herself that one should not judge a man by a repelling exterior , which , after all , might cover a great deal of goodness . After George 's flight and Archibald Fowler 's death he had been very kind to her . `` I do n't know what I should have done without him at that time , '' she thought now , as she stood with his big , soft hand clasping hers and his admiring fishy eyes on her face .