a quarter past eleven
There is an insidious something about the atmosphere of a rehearsal of a musical play which saps the finer feelings of those connected with it . Softened by the gentle beauty of the Spring weather , Mr. Goble had come to the Gotham Theatre that morning in an excellent temper , firmly intending to remain in an excellent temper all day . Five minutes of `` The Rose of America '' had sent him back to the normal ; and at ten minutes past eleven he was chewing his cigar and glowering at the stage with all the sweetness gone from his soul . When Wally Mason arrived at a quarter past eleven and dropped into the seat beside him , the manager received him with a grunt and even omitted to offer him a cigar . And when a New York theatrical manager does that , it is a certain sign that his mood is of the worst . One may find excuses for Mr. Goble . `` The Rose of America '' would have tested the equanimity of a far more amiable man : and on Mr. Goble what Otis Pilkington had called its delicate whimsicality jarred profoundly .