about ten o'clock
I imagine him living in a tiny little house somewhere near the river -- Westminster or Chelsea . His wife would be a dreadful person , thin , withered , herring-gutted -- a sort of red herring with a cap . But his daughter would be charming , she would have inherited her father 's features . I can imagine these women living in admiration of this man , tending on him , speaking very little , removed from worldly influences , seeing only the young men who come every Tuesday evening to listen to the poet 's conversation -- I do n't hear them saying much -- I can see them sitting in a corner listening for the ten thousandth time to aestheticisms not one word of which they understand , and about ten o'clock stealing away to some mysterious chamber . Something of the poet 's sterility would have descended upon them . ' ` That is how you imagine _ un génie raté _ , ' said Phillips . ` Your conception is clear enough ; why do n't you write the book ? '