a quarter to seven
Nelly looked into the drawing-room . Her father was not there . She turned the handle of another door , the door of the General 's own particular den , and going in she found him . She never thought of asking herself how he came to be there at this hour of the day , he who lived by rule , the click of whose latch-key had sounded in the hall-door every evening at a quarter to seven as long as she could remember . The clock on the mantelpiece pointed to ten minutes to five . The General was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace as though he had dropped into it on his entering the room . He was doing absolutely nothing , and that was an alarming thing enough , if but she had noticed it .