ten minutes to eight
She had a right to tell the story in her own way -- the true way ... . As Amherst approached , in his evening clothes , the heavy locks smoothed from his forehead , a flower of Cicely 's giving in his button-hole , she thought she had never seen him look so kind and handsome . `` Not dressed ? Do you know that it 's ten minutes to eight ? '' he said , coming up to her with a smile . She roused herself , putting her hands to her hair . `` Yes , I know -- I forgot , '' she murmured , longing to feel his arms about her , but standing rooted to the ground , unable to move an inch nearer .