three o'clock
said Lemoyne to the weary Cope at eleven o'clock ; `` it ought to have been written a month ago . '' Cope languidly slipped the oft-amended sheet under his pile of themes and in a spent voice suggested bed . Over night and through the following forenoon the draft lay on his desk . When he returned to his room at three o'clock a note , which had been delivered by hand , awaited him . It was from Amy Leffingwell . Cope read it , folded his arms on his desk , bowed his head on his arms , and , being alone , gave a half-sob . Then he lifted his head , with face illumined and soul refreshed .