four o'clock
In the thinnest of the dark you could see the jumble of poilus that went on and up -- like the sea itself , you 'd say -- and carrying on across all the convoys of artillery and ambulance wagons that we met that night . I 've never seen so many , so many convoys in the night , never ! '' Then he deals himself a thump on the chest , settles down again in self-possession , groans , and says no more . Blaire 's voice rises , giving expression to the haunting thought that wakes in the depths of the men : `` It 's four o'clock . It 's too late for there to be anything from our side . '' One of the gamesters in the other corner yelps a question at another : `` Now then ? Are you going to play or are n't you , worm-face ? ''