had no doubt in her mind of her own
satisfaction at the outcome of yesterday. She might have treated the
feelings and experience of other lovers--regular ones, prone to
nonsense--with contempt, but she never questioned the advantages of
her own position as compared with theirs. Her feast was better cooked,
altogether more substantial and real than the kickshaws and sweetmeats
she chose to ascribe to the _menus_ of Arcadia. Naturally; because
see what a much better sort Conrad was! It was going to be quite a
different kind of thing this time. And as for the old Goody, she was
not half bad. Nothing was half bad in Sally's eyes that morning, and
almost everything was wholly good.

She had slept so sound she was sure it was late. But it was only
half-past six, and the early greetings of Mrs. Lobjoit below were
not to the baker, nor even to the milk, but to next door, which was
dealing with the question of its mat and clean step through the agency
of its proprietress, whose voice chimed cheerfully with Mrs. Lobjoit's
over the surprise of the latter finding _her_ street door had been
opened, and that some one had already passed out. For Mrs. Lobjoit had
made _that_ sure, the night before, that she had "shot to" the bottom
bolt that _would_ shet, _because_ she had ignored as useless the top
bolt that _wouldn't_ shet--the correlation of events so often appealed
to by witnesses under examination; which Law, stupidly enough, prides
itself on snubbing them for. Further, Mrs. Lobjoit would have flown
to the solution that it was her gentleman gone out, only that it was
quite into the night before they stopped from talking.

Sally heard this because she had pulled down the top sash of her
window to breathe the sea air, regardless of the fact she well knew,
and described thus--that the sash-weight stuck and clunkled and
wouldn't come down. She decided against running the risk of disturbing
Jeremiah on the strength of Mrs. Lobjoit's impressions; although, if
he had gone out, she certainly would follow him. But she slipped on
a dressing-gown and went half-way downstairs, to see if his hat was
still on its peg. It was gone. So she went back to her room, and
dressed furtively. Because if they _had_ been talking late into the
night, it would be just as well for her mother to have her sleep out.

But she had hardly finished washing when she became aware of a
footstep outside--Jeremiah's certainly. She went to the window, saw
him approach