nine o'clock
The storm had delayed her , and every one was thankful that it was only half-past three when the ship steamed into the old `` pirate city 's '' splendid harbour . Max Doran and Sanda DeLisle stood together watching the Atlas mountains turning from violet blue to golden green , and the clustered pearls on hill and shore transform themselves into white domes . The two landed together , also , and Sanda let Max go with her in a big motor omnibus to the Hotel Saint George , the hotel of her patron saint , whose name Max remembered well because of postcards picturing its beautiful terrace and garden , sent him long ago by Rose when he was a cadet at West Point . They discovered that the first train in which Sanda could leave for Sidi-bel-Abbés would start at nine o'clock that evening , so the proposed dinner became possible ; and Sanda , by the advice of Max , took a room at the hotel for the rest of the day , inviting him to have tea with her on the terrace at five , if he were free to come back . He waited until the girl had disappeared with a porter and her hand-luggage , and then inquired of the concierge whether the Hotel-Pension Delatour still existed . He put the question carelessly , as though it meant nothing to him , adding , as the man paused to think , that he had looked in vain for the name in the guide-book . `` Ah , I remember now , sir , '' said the concierge .