four o'clock
She saw it all as he had seen it . `` Delicacy '' and `` honour '' indeed ! Disgust and contempt would be more likely feelings . She lay awake all Saturday night and all Sunday night , until four o'clock on Monday morning ; always reviewing the situation , always going over the same patch of ground in the desperate hope of finding some place where her self-respect could rest , and discovering nothing but the traces of her guilty feet . A subtler woman would have flourished lightly over the territory , till she had whisked away every vestige of her trail ; another would have seen the humour of the situation and blown the whole thing into the inane with a burst of healthy laughter ; but subtlety and humour were not Miss Quincey 's strong points . She could do nothing but creep shivering to bed and lie there , face to face with her own enormity . On Monday morning and on many mornings after she crept out into the street stealthily , like a criminal seeking some shelter where she could hide her head .