about eleven o'clock
`` She seemed to figure it might be advisable . '' `` Well , '' said Nasmyth reflectively , `` I fancy she was right . '' They said nothing further , but Nasmyth was unusually thoughtful as they proceeded towards the water-front . It was about eleven o'clock on a cloudy , unsettled morning when Nasmyth stood knee-deep in a swirling river-pool , holding a landing-net and watching Miss Hamilton , who stood on a neighbouring bank of shingle with a light trout-rod in her hand . The rod was bent , and the thin line , which was drawn tense and rigid , ripped through the surface of the pool , while there was also a suggestion of tension in the pose of the girl 's figure . She was gazing at the moving line , with a fine crimson in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes . `` Oh , '' she cried , `` I 'm afraid I 'm going to lose it , after all . ''