Jack had worked diligently in the office all day. He had been late in arriving, but he apologised, told the truth about his adventure, and promised to work overtime so as to make up for his default. His heart was light. Whilst engaged over his books the figures danced before his eyes, and the lines in the ledger became music staves from which his heart read a joyous melody.
He had loved Winefred for so long a time, and had done so in anticipation of nothing but rebuff; and now, all at once, he found his love returned.
Verily he was the happiest of boys.
In the evening he walked through Seaton. The night was still and starlit. There was frost in the air, but he did not feel it; the sea grumbled as it chewed the flints on the Chesil Bank, but he regarded it not. His pulses leaped and his heart sang.
He arrived at the ferry and was put across.
Olver marvelled to find him in such buoyant humour, and asked the reason.
'I have had a good day,' said Jack, but entered into no explanation.
'Had a rise in your salary?' observed Dench.
Then Jack ascended the combe, and took his way over the common to the cottage on the Undercliff. A light was burning in the kitchen. No other window was illumined. He could look in, and he saw Mrs. Marley only, engaged in some domestic employment.
Then Jack turned in the direction of Bindon. If Winefred were not at home, she could be nowhere else.