a quarter to eleven
`` If He were but here ! '' she sighed . But she knew He was far away . * * * * * It was not until a quarter to eleven that she understood that the crowds outside were clamouring for Him too , and that knowledge reassured her yet further . They knew , then , these wild tigers , where their redemption lay ; they understood what was their ideal , even if they had not attained to it . Ah ! if He were but here , there would be no more question : the sullen waves would sink beneath His call of peace , the hazy clouds lift , the rumble die to silence .