half past eight
He liked the fireflies , and the frogs ; the murmur of the brook , and the soft voice speaking out of the darkness . He thought this was a very nice girl ; he wished she would not be so uneasy about those tiresome youngsters . However , as there seemed to be no help for it , he followed Margaret in silence up the gravel walk . She need not hurry so , he thought ; it was very early , not half past eight yet . He wanted to make his call ; he could n't dress up like this every night ; and , besides , it was a question whether he could ever wear this shirt again by daylight . Miss Sophronia was not on the verandah . `` Will you not come in ? ''