quarter before eleven
She had never been more beautiful , and apparently never in a happier mood . They both laughed and talked as if it were the first instead of the last day of their month . Neither spoke of the parting ; each avoided all subjects that pointed in direction of the one subject of which both thought whenever their minds left the immediate present . As the little clock on the mantle began to intimate in a faint , polite voice the quarter before eleven , he said abruptly , almost brusquely : `` I feel like a coward , giving you up in this way . Yes -- giving you up ; for you have a traitor in your fortress who has offered me the keys , who offers them to me now . But I do not trust you ; and I ca n't trust myself . The curse of luxury is on you , the curse of ambition on me .