seven o'clock
She knew so well why she was being disturbed by this horrid nightmare ! It was because of Bunting -- Bunting , who could think and talk of nothing else than those frightful murders , in which only morbid and vulgar-minded people took any interest . Why , even now , in her dream , she could hear her husband speaking to her about it : `` Ellen '' -- so she heard Bunting murmur in her ear -- `` Ellen , my dear , I 'm just going to get up to get a paper . It 's after seven o'clock . '' The shouting -- nay , worse , the sound of tramping , hurrying feet smote on her shrinking ears . Pushing back her hair off her forehead with both hands , she sat up and listened . It had been no nightmare , then , but something infinitely worse -- reality .