five
o'clock
To-morrow his studio , just across the hall from Hartwell 's , was to pass into other hands , and Bentley 's luggage was even now piled in discouraged resignation before his door . The various bales and boxes seemed literally to weigh upon us as we sat in his neighbor 's hospitable rooms , drearily putting in the time until he should leave us to catch the ten o'clock express for Dieppe . The day we had got through very comfortably , for Bentley made it the occasion of a somewhat pretentious luncheon at Maxim 's . There had been twelve of us at table , and the two young Poles were thirsty , the Gascon so fabulously entertaining , that it was near upon five o'clock when we put down our liqueur glasses for the last time , and the red , perspiring waiter , having pocketed the reward of his arduous and protracted services , bowed us affably to the door , flourishing his napkin and brushing back the streaks of wet , black hair from his rosy forehead . Our guests having betaken themselves belated to their respective engagements , the rest of us returned with Bentley -- only to be confronted by the depressing array before his door . A glance about his denuded rooms had sufficed to chill the glow of the afternoon , and we fled across the hall in a body and begged Lyon Hartwell to take us in . Bentley had said very little about it , but we all knew what it meant to him to be called home .