The time represented the interval which elapsed between the transmission of the British ultimatum to Germany and the hour set for the German reply.

The place was that same historic room in the Foreign Office where so many interviews had already taken place and where so many were to take place in the next four years.
As Page came in, Sir Edward, a tall and worn and rather pallid figure, was standing against the mantelpiece; he greeted the Ambassador with a grave handshake and the two men sat down.

Overwrought the Foreign Secretary may have been, after the racking week which had just passed, but there was nothing flurried or excited in his manner; his whole bearing was calm and dignified, his speech was quiet and restrained, he uttered not one bitter word against Germany, but his measured accents had a sureness, a conviction of the justice of his course, that went home in almost deadly fashion.

He sat in a characteristic pose, his elbows resting on the sides of his chair, his hands folded and placed beneath his chin, the whole body leaning forward eagerly and his eyes searching those of his American friend.

The British Foreign Secretary was a handsome and an inspiring figure.