ten o'clock
-LRB- Prose translation by Author from his original Bengali . -RRB- It was April 30th and Henry Rogers sat in his rooms after breakfast , listening to the rumble of the traffic down St. James 's Street , and found the morning dull . A pile of letters lay unopened upon the table , waiting the arrival of the discriminating Mr. Minks with his shorthand note-book and his mild blue eyes . It was half-past nine , and the secretary was due at ten o'clock . He smiled as he thought of this excellent fellow 's first morning in the promoted capacity of private secretary . He would come in very softly , one eye looking more intelligent than the other ; the air of the City clerk discarded , and in its place the bearing that belonged to new robes of office worn for the first time . He would bow , say ` Good morning , Mr. Rogers , ' glance round with one eye on his employer and another on a possible chair , seat himself with a sigh that meant ` I have written a new poem in the night , and would love to read it to you if I dared , ' then flatten out his oblong note-book and look up , expectant and receptive .