eight o’clock
In conversation he seemed either depressed or excited , more often the latter . Save when attending to his duties at the hospital , he made no pretence of employing himself ; if at home , he sat for hours without opening a book , and his walks , excepting when they led him to Clipstone Street , were aimless . The hours of postal delivery found him waiting in an anguish of suspense . At eight o'clock each morning he stood by his window , listening for the postman 's knock in the street . As it approached he went out to the head of the stairs , and if the knock sounded at the door of his house , he leaned over the banisters , trembling in expectation . But the letter was never for him . When his agitation had subsided he felt glad of the disappointment , and laughed and sang .