nine o'clock
`` Yes -- do you mean -- Oh , Cleone -- ? '' _ Cleone _ -LRB- rising , and very demure -RRB- . `` Here comes the Duchess with my Guardian -- hush ! At nine o'clock , sir . '' Evening , with the promise of a glorious night later on ; evening , full of dewy scents , of lengthening shadows , of soft , unaccountable noises , of mystery and magic ; and , over all , a rising moon , big and yellow . Thus , as he went , Barnabas kept his eyes bent thitherward , and his step was light and his heart sang within him for gladness , it was in the very air , and in the whole fair world was no space for care or sorrow , for his dreams were to be realized at a certain finger-post on the Hawkhurst road , on the stroke of nine . Therefore , as he strode along , being only human after all , Barnabas fell a whistling to himself under his breath .