a quarter to twelve
He stuck small branches under the two great logs , and a glorious flame burst out . Then he listened again intently . The wind was falling and the night was becoming very still . It was a quarter to twelve now . His back ached , and he would have liked to lie down ; but he dared not , for fear he should drop asleep . He leaned forward with his hands between his crossed knees , and watched the blaze he had made . Then , after a while , Peter Halket 's thoughts became less clear : they became at last , rather , a chain of disconnected pictures , painting themselves in irrelevant order on his brain , than a line of connected ideas .