eleven o'clock
Janet , tender to her that night , fondling her and caressing her , answering to her with the very heart that she had tried to stifle within herself , was Janet herself again the next morning . But Sally was unchanged . She dressed herself silently before the mirror , looking out through the window at the grey river-fog that fell gloomily across the water and Janet lay in bed , her hands crossed behind her head , a cigarette hanging between her lips and the smoke curling up past her eyes . The school of Art did not open until eleven o'clock that morning . Sally had to be at the office at nine . `` There 'll be a fog up in Town , '' said Janet . She did not take the cigarette out of her mouth .