one o’clock
When he reached his rooms , or , rather , his flat , which was just off Curzon Street , he went to look at his bookshelves , and ran his finger along them until he came to the poems of William Watson , which were next to Rupert Brooke 's poems . After looking at the index he found the lyric he wanted , sat down , lit his pipe , and read it four times , thinking of Lady Sellingworth . Then he put away the book and meditated . Finally -- it was after one o'clock -- he went almost reluctantly to bed . In the morning he , of course , felt different -- one always feels different in the morning -- but nevertheless he was aware that something definite had come into his life which had made a change in it . This something was his acquaintance with Lady Sellingworth . Already he found it difficult to believe that he had lived for twenty-eight years without knowing her .