seven o'clock
He walked to the window and looked out upon the broad , white high road . There was a wagon laden with trusses of hay crawling slowly past , the lazy horses and the lazy wagoner drooping their heads with a weary stoop under the afternoon 's sunshine . There was a flock of sheep straggling about the road , with a dog running himself into a fever in the endeavor to keep them decently together . There were some bricklayers just released from work -- a tinker mending some kettles by the roadside ; there was a dog-cart dashing down the road , carrying the master of the Audley hounds to his seven o'clock dinner ; there were a dozen common village sights and sounds that mixed themselves up into a cheerful bustle and confusion ; but there was no George Talboys . `` Of all the extraordinary things that ever happened to me in the whole course of my life , '' said Mr. Robert Audley , `` this is the most miraculous ! '' The landlord still in attendance , opened his eyes as Robert made this remark . What could there be extraordinary in the simple fact of a gentleman being late for his dinner ?