Twenty-five minutes past three
Yes , one 's voyage must be made absolutely without companions through ice and black water -- towards what goal ? Here he laid his finger upon the half-hour , and decided that when the minute-hand reached that point he would go , at the same time answering the question put by another of the many voices of consciousness with the reply that there was undoubtedly a goal , but that it would need the most relentless energy to keep anywhere in its direction . Still , still , one goes on , the ticking seconds seemed to assure him , with dignity , with open eyes , with determination not to accept the second-rate , not to be tempted by the unworthy , not to yield , not to compromise . Twenty-five minutes past three were now marked upon the face of the watch . The world , he assured himself , since Katharine Hilbery was now half an hour behind her time , offers no happiness , no rest from struggle , no certainty . In a scheme of things utterly bad from the start the only unpardonable folly is that of hope . Raising his eyes for a moment from the face of his watch , he rested them upon the opposite bank , reflectively and not without a certain wistfulness , as if the sternness of their gaze were still capable of mitigation .