four o’clock
The neighbourhood of Bloomsbury Square towards four o'clock of a November afternoon is not so crowded as to secure to the stranger , of appearance anything out of the common , immunity from observation . Tibb 's boy , screaming at the top of his voice that _ she _ was his honey , stopped suddenly , stepped backwards on to the toes of a voluble young lady wheeling a perambulator , and remained deaf , apparently , to the somewhat personal remarks of the voluble young lady . Not until he had reached the next corner -- and then more as a soliloquy than as information to the street -- did Tibb 's boy recover sufficient interest in his own affairs to remark that _ he _ was her bee . The voluble young lady herself , following some half-a-dozen yards behind , forgot her wrongs in contemplation of the stranger 's back .