seven o'clock
We can not talk here . '' `` I shall be delighted . I know the villa quite well , '' was my answer ; and then , with a smile , she drove on , and somehow I thought that the idlers watching us looked at me strangely . At seven o'clock I was conducted through the great marble hall of the villa , one of the finest residences on the outskirts of Florence , and into the beautiful salon , upholstered in pale-green silk , where my pretty companion of that exciting run on the Great North Road rose to greet me with eager , outstretched hand ; while behind her stood a tall , white-headed , military-looking man , whom she introduced as her father , General Stefanovitch . `` I asked you here for seven , '' she said , with a sweet smile ; `` but we do not dine until eight , therefore we may talk . How fortunate we should meet to-day ! I intended to write to you . ''