seven o'clock
What might be better -- and his heart gave a bound -- would be to see Father Cruse . The woman whom Kitty had picked up might be one of his waifs , who , overcome by fatigue or illness after leaving the church , had fallen on the door-step where the policeman had found her . At six o'clock he left the shop with a formal good night to Kling , a hasty , almost abrupt good-by to Masie , and , without a word of any kind to Kitty , whose quiet scrutiny he dreaded , bent his steps to a small eating-room in the basement of one of the old-time private houses in Lexington Avenue , where he sometimes took his meals . At seven o'clock he was threading his way through the crowds in Third Avenue , searching the face of every one he met . At eight o'clock , his impatience growing , he turned into 28th Street and mounted the short flight of steps in front of St. Barnabas 's . The tones of the organ , as well as the illumined stained-glass windows and the groups of people around the swinging doors of the vestibule , showed that a service was being held . These , however , were the only evidences that a body of people had met to pray inside , both pavements outside being filled with hurrying throngs , as were the barrooms opposite , crowded with loud-talking men lining the bars , with here and there a woman at a table .