nine o'clock in the morning
After exploring a dozen dingy streets and conceiving a deep disgust for Camden Town , she walked back to find her man in the neighbourhood of St. Sidwell 's . Bastian Cautley , M.D. . It was half-past five and Dr. Bastian Cautley had put on his house jacket , loosened his waistcoat , settled down by his library fire with a pipe and a book , and was thanking Heaven that for once he had an hour to himself between his afternoon round and his time for consultation . He had been working hard ever since nine o'clock in the morning ; but now nobody could have looked more superlatively lazy than Bastian Cautley as he stretched himself on two armchairs in an attitude of reckless ease . His very intellect -LRB- the most unrestful part of him -RRB- was at rest ; all his weary being merged in a confused voluptuous sensation , a beatific state in which smoking became a higher kind of thinking , and thought betrayed an increasing tendency to end in smoke . The room was double-walled with book-shelves , and but for the far away underground humming of a happy maidservant the house was soundless . He rejoiced to think that there was not a soul in it above stairs to disturb his deep tranquility .