eight o'clock
With a thrill of apprehension she saw that in place of the humble member of the congregation who usually attended there , the tall , fair-bearded Arch-Mystic known as George Norov was guarding the door . Small though the incident might appear , it conveyed to her , as no spoken declaration could have done , the spirit of action and vigilance reigning in the House . While the thought flashed through her mind , Norov surveyed her from his great height . `` You are in good time , my child ; the Gathering is for eight o'clock . '' She looked up at him . `` Yes , '' she said , quickly . `` I know it is for eight o'clock , but I have come early .