The Curious Quest by E. Phillips Oppenheim

Bliss awoke on the morning of the nineteenth of December with a curious little throb of expectation. He lay with wide-open eyes, looking around him. Now that the time had really come he could scarcely believe that his year was over, his privations actually at an end. His thoughts dwelt for only a moment or two upon the change that the day would bring him personally. The wonderful part of it all was Frances. More wonderful than anything was the fact that, at the end of these twelve long months of hardship and suffering, it was of some one else he thought and not of himself. He sprang out of bed, and washed and dressed as carefully as possible. Then he counted his money. He had thirty-two shillings, and he owed seven for his room. He paid his bill and at a little after eight o'clock sallied out into the street. As he opened the front door, he almost ran into a familiar little figure whose hand was upon the bell.

"Mrs. Heath!" he exclaimed. "Why, good morning."