the
hour of eight
It was not my husband speaking , but some passerby . However , I looked up at George with a smile , and found him looking down at me with much the same humour . We had often spoken of the odd phrases one hears in the street , and how interesting it would be sometimes to hear a little more of the conversation . `` That 's a case in point , '' he laughed , as he guided me through the crowd of theatre-goers which invariably block this part of Broadway at the hour of eight . `` We shall never know whose eulogy we have just heard . ` A remarkable man ! ' There are not many of them . ''