the hour of ten
then she sank upon my breast and pressed her lips against my own . For a few moments I , Shabaka , seemed to be lost in a kind of delirium and surrounded by a rose-hued mist . Then I , Allan Quatermain , heard a sharp quick sound as of a clock striking , and looked up . It was a lock , a beautiful old clock on a mantelpiece opposite to me and the hands showed that it had just struck the hour of ten . Now I remembered that centuries ago , as I was dropping asleep , I did not know why , I had seen that clock and those hands in the same position and known that it was striking the second stroke of ten . Oh ! what did it all mean ?