eleven o'clock
That was why he could not be certain whether he had seen five dryads or five times five . `` The dryad door , '' he apostrophized it romantically , keeping his balance by standing with his feet apart , as old men stand before a fire . It was a very ordinary-looking door , and that made the romance for Peter in giving it such a name -- just a white-painted door , so new that it smelled slightly of varnish -- yet behind it lay dreamland . Of course Peter Rolls knew that the tall , incredibly lovely beings were not dryads and not dreams , although they wore low necks , and pearls and diamonds in their wonderful , waved hair , at eleven o'clock of a stormy morning on board an Atlantic liner . Still , he was blessed if he could think what they were , and what they were doing in that room of mirrors without any furniture which he could recall , except a very large screen , a few chairs , and a sofa or two . The next best thing to the forbidden one -- opening the door again to ask the beings point-blank whether they were pipe dreams or just mermaids -- was to go on to the gymnasium and inquire there . Toward this end young Mr. Rolls -LRB- as he was respectfully called in a business house never mentioned by his sister -RRB- immediately took steps .