“Well, I must be getting along for dinner,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “Do we travel part of the way together?”

“Not now, Jack,” replied Mrs Spinks. “We’re to give Mr Ericson an answer to his proposal.”

“About working for him when his house is built?”

“Yes. He wants to know this evening so that he can forward his business. If Bill decides to go with him, we’ll be doing the same. We all think a lot of Mr Ericson, and I’m sure we’d be very happy.”

“He’s a very decent man,” agreed Wilton, regarding Mrs Spinks and Marion alternately. “I think you’ll be wise to accept his offer. Bill will have a regular crew all the year round, while you two will have an easier time. Well, I must go alone if you intend to wait for theDo-me. What about the pictures tonight, Marion? Coming?”

“If you’d like to take me,” she replied, looking directly at him.

Wilton was optimistic as he walked the road to the township and his home. There were moments when he was exceedingly pessimistic, for Marion Spinks was not able to make up her mind sufficiently to surrender to the idea of marrying him.

He was dressed in his good blue suit when he heard his mother talking with someone in their kitchen-living-room. It was half-past seven and the evening was advanced. Through the open window of his bedroom came a cool draught of air, soft and fragrant with flowers growing in the tidy garden. Beyond the window the evening was quiet, unusually quiet. It was strangely empty of sound-the omnipresent sound of surf.

With his mother was Marion Spinks.

“Hullo! What’s up, Marion?”

“TheDo-me isn’t home yet.” she replied, her eyes troubled.

“Not home! Well, there’s plenty of time for her to get home without you worrying.”