nine o’clock
said Beatrix , playing a provocative amazement . `` My poor food does not alarm you ? Have you enough independence of soul to crown me with joy by this little proof of your affection ? '' `` Let me write a note to Sabine ; otherwise she will wait dinner for me till nine o'clock . '' `` Here , '' said Beatrix , `` this is the table at which I write . '' She lighted the candles herself , and took one to the table to look over what he was writing . `` _ My dear Sabine -- _ '' ``` My dear ' ?