four o'clock
`` And I had professed myself a Kantian , and made light of the objective reality of Time ! thou laggard , Time ! '' he cried , and shook his fist at Space , Time 's unoffending consort . `` I believe it will never be four o'clock again , '' he said , in despair , finally ; and once more had out his watch . It was half-past three . He scowled at the instrument 's bland white face . `` You have no bowels , no sensibilities -- nothing but dry little methodical jog-trot wheels and pivots ! ''