eight o'clock
And at sight of that beautiful creature , sleeping and smiling in her sleep , the earthy , hothouse fumes steeping the mind of one perpetually serving in an atmosphere unsuited to her natural growth , dispersed . Beauty , with its queer touching power of freeing the spirit from all barriers and thoughts of self , sweetened the maid 's eyes , and kept her standing , holding her breath . For Barbara asleep was a symbol of that Golden Age in which she so desperately believed . She opened her eyes , and seeing the maid , said : `` Is it eight o'clock , Stacey ? '' `` No , but Lady Casterley wants you to walk with her . '' `` Oh ! bother !