"Jimmy's safe," they seemed to croak. "Jimmy's safe. He's got his gal. His gal, Delight."
Dim as a cathedral aisle the path lay through the wood, and in the tallest pine, like a garland, hung the moon.
The walls of evening closed about them, but the moon lighted their path, smooth and sweet-smelling with pine needles. With arms clasping each other they told of all that had happened while they were separated. Delight, of her sojourn at the Heaslips', of Perkin's passion for her, of Kirke's coming, just at the moment when she was desperate. Jimmy, of his weary search through the city, inquiries at agencies, false clues, of his return to Brancepeth, almost in despair, and of Charley Bye's meeting him with the awful news of her persecution in the park.
As for going out with another girl, as Pearl had said, he had never spoken to another girl except to inquire for Delight since he had last seen her.
"And, oh, Jimmy," she said, "I was that vexed, I unravelled your poor jersey every bit, and there it lies in your tin trunk in my room at Beemer's! Oh, whatever shall I do?"
"My trunk in your room at Beemer's? How did it come there? I left it at The Duke."
"Fine Nicht had it sent to me so you'd never get it away without me knowing it."
"He did?" shouted Jimmy. "He's a good head, that's what he is! I wish I'd shaken his hand before I jumped into the boat. But I'll search him out when I go back for our trunks."
"We'll have him come to visit us when we're married, won't we?" she cooed. "And I'll tell you what I'll do.
