about noon
asked Amedee blankly . `` Why indeed ? Surely even a Norman gardener lives for more than cider ! You usually meet him there about noon , I believe ? '' Methought he had the grace to blush , though there is an everlasting doubt in my mind that it may have been the colour of the candle-shade producing that illusion . It was a strange thing to see , at all events , and , taking it for a physiological fact at the time , I let my willing eyes linger upon it as long as it -LRB- or its appearance -RRB- was upon him . `` You were a little earlier than usual to-day , '' I continued finally , full of the marvel .