nine in the evening
There was something ghostly about Grace Noir 's typewriter -- it seemed to have fallen into Fran 's power like an enemy 's trophy too easily captured . The pens and pencils were at her mercy , so readily surrendered that they suggested treachery . Did an ambuscade await her ? But impossible -- no train returned from the city until nine in the evening , and it was now only three in the afternoon -- six hours of clear field . She found the philanthropist immersed in day-dreams . So deep was he below the surface of every-day thoughts , that he might be likened to a man walking on the floor of the sea . The thought of the good his money and influence were accomplishing thrilled his soul , while through the refined ether of this pious joy appeared the loveliness of Grace Noir , lending something like spiritual sensuousness to his vision of duty .