one o’clock
By my life , thou must not ! Go home ! '' So at the eleventh minute the vanquished Eliphaz produced the balance , and they all lived happily ever afterward . AN IDYL OF LONDON , By Beatrice Harraden It was one o'clock , and many of the students in the National Gallery had left off work and were refreshing themselves with lunch and conversation . There was one old worker who had not stirred from his place , but he had put down his brush , and had taken from his pocket a small book , which was like its owner -- thin and shabby of covering . He seemed to find pleasure in reading it , for he turned over its pages with all the tenderness characteristic of one who loves what he reads . Now and again he glanced at his unfinished copy of the beautiful portrait of Andrea del Sarto , and once his eyes rested on another copy next to his , better and truer than his , and once he stopped to pick up a girl 's prune-coloured tie , which had fallen from the neighbouring easel .