ten o'clock
Father Goulden and I were so accustomed to this kind of life that we worked on without thinking . We troubled ourselves about nothing , the table was laid and the dinner served exactly on the stroke of noon . At night Mr. Goulden went out after supper to read the gazette at Hoffman 's , with his old cloak wrapped closely round his shoulders and his big fox-skin cap pulled down over his neck . But in spite of that , often when he came in at ten o'clock , after we had gone to bed , we heard him cough ; he had dampened his feet . Then Catherine would say , `` He is coughing again , he thinks he is as young as he was at twenty , '' and in the morning she did not hesitate to reproach him . `` Monsieur Goulden , '' she would say , `` you are not reasonable ; you have an ugly cold , and yet you go out every evening . '' `` Ah !