His unexpected use of the respectful prefix emboldened her and made her feel surer of herself. In a moment the indefiniteness of the situation had gone. They were back on their old footing of servant and mistress. Her heart gave a leap of thankfulness. She felt that she was saved. The man whose rough hand her fingers now touched for a moment was no longer the symbol of an ideal but simply a farm-labourer whom her father had dismissed. She withdrew her own hand hurriedly. ‘I’ll say good-bye, then,’ she said. ‘Good-bye, miss, and thank ’ee,’ said Abner, and touched his cap. The idea of leaving The Dyke had shocked him; but when he passed down the drive for the last time, with Prosser’s money in his pocket, Abner experienced a sudden feeling of relief. It was probable that hard times were ahead of him, and yet he had never felt so free since the day when he left his father’s house at Halesby. When he got home he told Mary with an affectation of lightness that he had got the sack. Her first impulse was one of fear for their finances, but almost as quickly she found herself thankful that Abner was no longer in touch with Marion Prosser. The world in which she and Marion had been friends was so far behind and spoke to her so poignantly of a lost content that she was glad to be wholly freed from it. She could not disguise the fact that she was jealous of Marion, not only for this but for other reasons. She put on a bold and heartening front. ‘I’ve a nice bit of money in hand,’ she said. ‘That shows how wise we were to go easy.’ Her show of cheerfulness and courage pleased him. ‘I thought it ‘d put you out a bit,’ he said. ‘We ought to be used to uncertainty by this time,’ she replied. ‘I’m glad you won’t have that long walk there and back. It was enough to take the strength out of any man.’ ‘It’s a rum thing,’ he said, ‘but I don’t mind it any more than you do, leaving The Dyke.’ ‘You must get a job nearer home now,’ she said. ‘You’re quite a stranger.’ ‘Ay, I’ll have a look round to-morrow,’ he said.