midnight
It was a nocturne after the heart of Whistler , and Jones , as he gazed at it , felt for the first time the magic of this wonderful half revealed city with its million yellow eyes . He passed on , crossing to the right bank , and found the Strand . Here in a bar , and for the price of half a pint of beer , he sat for some twenty minutes watching the customers and killing Time , then , with his worldly wealth reduced to eightpence , he wandered off westward , passing the Savoy , and pausing for a moment to peep down the great archway at the gaily lit hotel . At midnight he had gravitated to the embankment , and found a seat not overcrowded . Here he fell in with a gentleman , derelict like himself , a free spoken individual , whose conversation wiled away an hour . Said the person after a request for a match : `` Warm night , but there 's a change in the weather coming on , or I 'm greatly mistaken . I 've lost nearly everything in the chops and changes of life , but there 's one thing I have n't lost -- my barometer -- that 's to say my rheumatism .