eleven o'clock
`` He was standing by the car waiting , '' said Marigold . `` Now , sir . '' He lifted me with his usual cast-iron tenderness into bed and pulled the coverings over me . `` It 's a funny time to talk about house repairs at eleven o'clock , at night , '' he remarked . `` Nothing is funny in war-time , '' said I. `` Either nothing or everything , '' said Marigold . He fussed methodically about the room , picked up an armful of clothes , and paused by the door , his hand on the switch . `` Anything more , sir ? ''