nine o'clock
Both the young men had submitted themselves to the ordeal , and while neither would of course have admitted as much to anyone else , both felt secretly that they had no reason to be dissatisfied with their performance . The results would not be published for some weeks to come . The last night of the term had arrived , the last night too of John 's Oxford career . It was near nine o'clock , but still quite light , and the rich orange glow of sunset had not yet left the sky . The air was warm and sultry , as on that eventful evening when just a year ago he had for the first time seen the figure or the illusion of the figure of Adrian Temple . Since that time he had played the `` Areopagita '' many , many times ; but there had never been any reappearance of that form , nor even had the once familiar creaking of the wicker chair ever made itself heard . As he sat alone in his room , thinking with a natural melancholy that he had seen the sun set for the last time on his student life , and reflecting on the possibilities of the future and perhaps on opportunities wasted in the past , the memory of that evening last June recurred strongly to his imagination , and he felt an irresistible impulse to play once more the `` Areopagita . ''