three
o’clock
The order of nature seemed reversed ; the butterfly had abandoned its gorgeous wings of gauze , and was habited in the sombre working garb of the grub . With her hands clasped behind her , the girl paced up and down the room , pouring forth words , two hundred to the minute , and sometimes more . Silently one stenographer , tiptoeing in , replaced another , who as silently departed ; and from the adjoining room , the subdued , nervous , rapid click , click , click of the typewriting machine invaded , without disturbing , her consciousness . Towards three o'clock the low drone of the rotaries in the cellar made itself felt rather than heard ; the early edition for the country was being run off . Time was flying -- danced away by nimble feet in the West End , worked away by nimble fingers in Fleet Street -LRB- well-named thoroughfare -RRB- ; play and work , work and play , each supplementing the other ; the acts of the frivolous recorded by the industrious . When a little more than three hours ' dictating was finished , the voice of the girl , now as hoarse as formerly it had been musical , ceased ; she dropped into a chair and rested her tired head on the deserted desk , closing her wearied eyes . She knew she had spoken between 15,000 and 20,000 words , a number almost equal in quantity to that contained in many a book which had made an author 's fame and fortune .