eight o'clock
She turned from him and looked into the fire `` Very well , '' she answered quietly , `` the night is stormy , but I suppose you do n't mind that . '' `` Not much , '' a fellow has to humour the weather for the weather wo n't humour him . `` But by Jove ! its eight o'clock , '' said Guy , looking at his watch , `` and I 'll be puckering my patrician brow to invent an excuse for this delay . So ` ta-ta . ' '' `` Good night , '' Honor said in a low voice , extending her hand as Guy approached the fire to light his cigar . Another moment , and the young girl was alone with her thoughts .