midnight
I am going to sleep again . '' She went back into the drawing-room , laughing aloud , whilst Alan , after doing his best to console Mrs. Bundlecombe , departed in search of a night 's lodging under another roof . On a sultry evening in the middle of August , a few choice spirits were gathered together in one of the smoking-rooms of the Oligarchy . All but one were members of the Upper or Lower House , and they were lazily enjoying the unusual chance -LRB- for such busy men , and at such a critical period of the session -RRB- which enabled them to smoke their cigars in Pall Mall before midnight on a Tuesday . Either there had been a count-out , or there was obstruction in the House , which was no immediate concern of theirs , or they had made an arrangement with their Whip , and were awaiting a telegram which did not come ; but , whatever the reason , here they were , lazy and contented . There was our old friend , Sir John Pynsent ; and Charles Milton , Q.C. , certain to be a law officer or a judge , as soon as the Conservatives had their chance ; and Lord Ambermere ; and the Honorable Tom Willoughby , who had been trained at Harrow , Oxford , and Lord 's Cricket Ground , and who was once assured by his Balliol tutor that his wit would never make him a friend , nor his face an enemy . The last of the circle was Brooke Dalton , of whom this narrative has already had something to record .