midnight
asks the astonished widower . `` Ugh ! '' says the bookseller , mimicking him , and the conversation degenerates into a universal grinning and a cloud of tobacco smoke . It is midnight . The piano upstairs , which has accompanied a mixed choir of male and female voices , is silent . The waiter has finished his countless journeys from the speaking tube to the verandah ; the proprietor enters into his daybook the last few bottles of champagne which have been ordered upstairs . The three friends rise from their chairs and go home , two to their `` virgin couches , '' and the bookseller to his Stafva .