seven o’clock
It was not yet seven o'clock . He placed it to his ear , thinking it had stopped , but found himself mistaken . `` What an unearthly hour , '' he said , unable to check the yawns . Yates ' years on a morning newspaper had made seven o'clock something like midnight to him . He had been unable to sleep until after two o'clock , his usual time of turning in , and now this rude wakening seemed thoughtless cruelty . However , he dressed , and yawned himself downstairs . They were all seated at breakfast when Yates entered the apartment , which was at once dining room and parlor .