If his conscience allows him to walk home, no one will think the less of him.

Having very little conscience at his time of life (after so much contact with mankind), he considers convenience only.

To go home would suit him very well, but his crib would be empty till his young mistress came; moreover, there is a little dog that plagues him when his door is open; and in spite of old age, it is something to be free, and in spite of all experience, to hope for something good.

Therefore Lord Keppel is as faithful as the rocks; he lifts his long heavy head, and gazes wistfully at the anchored ships, and Mary is sure that the darling pines for his absent master.
But she, with the multitudinous tingle of youth, runs away rejoicing.
The buoyant power and brilliance of the morning are upon her, and the air of the bright sea lifts and spreads her, like a pillowy skate's egg.
The polish of the wet sand flickers like veneer of maple-wood at every quick touch of her dancing feet.

Her dancing feet are as light as nature and high spirits made them, not only quit of spindle heels, but even free from shoes and socks left high and dry on the shingle.