four o'clock
Everything around was dark and silent -- the faint splash of my oars alone breaking the utter stillness . Landing at my usual spot , more by luck than judgment , I tugged the boat up out of reach of the tide , and then , turning round , waved good-night to the _ Betty _ . It was too dark to see anything , but I think Joyce sent me back my message . The eastern sky was just flushing into light when I got back to the creek at four o'clock . It was a beautiful morning -- cool and still -- with the sweet freshness of early dawn in the air , and the promise of a long unclouded day of spring sunshine . I tugged the dinghy down to the water , and pushed off for the _ Betty _ , which looked strangely small and unreal lying there in the dim , mysterious twilight . The sound I made as I drew near must have reached Joyce 's ears .