midnight
Grainger edited each individual effort with his assistant editor 's smile , which meant : `` Great ! but you 'll have to send them in through the regular channels . If I were the chief now -- but you know how it is . '' And soon the head waiter bowed before them , desolated to relate that the closing hour had already become chronologically historical ; so out all trooped into the starry midnight , filling the street with gay laughter , to be barked at by hopeful cabmen and enviously eyed by the dull inhabitants of an uninspired world . Grainger left Mary at the elevator in the trackless palm forest of the Idealia . After he had gone she came down again carrying a small hand-bag , ` phoned for a cab , drove to the Grand Central Station , boarded a 12.55 commuter 's train , rode four hours with her burnt-umber head bobbing against the red-plush back of the seat , and landed during a fresh , stinging , glorious sunrise at a deserted station , the size of a peach crate , called Crocusville . She walked a mile and clicked the latch of a gate .