one o'clock
Dyce Lashmar 's introspection stopped at a certain point . He was still a very young man , and circumstance had never yet shown him an austere countenance . The sun was shining , the air exquisitely fresh . Lady Ogram had not named the hour of luncheon , but it seemed to Dyce that he could hardly present himself at Rivenoak before one o'clock ; so , instead of directing his steps towards the lodge ; he struck off into a by-road , where the new-opened leafage of the hawthorn glistened after the morning 's showers . Presently there came speeding towards him a lady on a bicycle , and he was sure that it was Constance . She did not slacken her pace ; clearly she would not stop . `` Good morning ! ''