about ten o'clock
`` Thank the Lard that chitter-faaced wummon edn ' gwaine to the weddin ' any ways ! Us knaws she 's a dear good sawl ` nough ; but what wi ' her sour voice , an ' her sour way o ' talkin ' , an ' her sour ` pinions , she 'm enough to set a rat-trap 's teeth on edge . '' That evening Thomasin had another spasm of face-ache and went to bed soon after drinking tea . Michael was due at home about ten o'clock or earlier , and Joan -- having set out supper , made all ready , and ascertained that her stepmother had gone to sleep -- walked out to the pierhead , there to wait for Mr. Tregenza and Tom . Under moonlight , the returning luggers crept homeward , like inky silhouettes on a background of dull silver . Every moment added to the forest of masts anchored at the moorings outside the harbor ; every minute another rowing-boat shot between the granite piers , slid silently into the darkness under shore , leaving moonlit rings widening out behind at each dip of the oars . Joan sat down under the lighthouse and waited in the stillness for her father 's boat .