quarter to five
As the afternoon advanced , the tramp of the footballers was no longer heard , silence , bound by the shining frost of the beautiful day , lay about the grey buildings . Soon a melody of thrumming kettles would rise into the air , in every glowing room tea would be preparing , the glorious luxury of rest after stinging exercise would fill the courts with worship , unconsciously driven , skywards , to the Powers of Health . And then , after years of time , as it seemed , faintly through the closed windows at last came the single note of St. Martin 's bell . That meant that it was quarter to five . Almost unconsciously he rose , put on his cap and gown and passed through the twilit streets that were stealing now into a dim glow under their misty lamps . The great chapel of St. Martin 's , planted like some couchant animal grey and mysterious against the blue of the evening sky , flung through its windows the light of its many candles . He found a seat at the back of the dark high-hanging ante-chapel .