midnight
`` Will he be hurt ? '' she cried . `` I see a couple of policemen handy , '' said Mr. Pole , and Emilia cowered down and clung to his hand as they drove from the place . It was midnight . Mr. Pole had appeased his imagination with a chop , and was trying to revive the memory of his old after-theatre night carouses by listening to a song which Emilia sang to him , while he sipped at a smoking mixture , and beat time on the table , rejoiced that he was warm from head to foot at last . `` That 's a pretty song , my dear , '' he said . `` A very pretty song .