window into the garden and saw Mary Bewery still walking and
talking with young Sackville Bonham.

"No," he muttered to himself. "I won't trouble to exchange
any farewells--not because of Ransford's hint, but because
there's no need. If Ransford thinks he's going to drive me
out of Wrychester before I choose to go he's badly mistaken
--it'll be time enough to say farewell when I take my
departure--and that won't be just yet. Now I wonder who that
old chap was? Knew some one of Ransford's name once, did he?
Probably Ransford himself--in which case he knows more of
Ransford than anybody in Wrychester knows--for nobody in
Wrychester knows anything beyond a few years back. No, Dr.
Ransford!--no farewells--to anybody! A mere departure--till I
turn up again."

But Bryce was not to get away from the old house without
something in the nature of a farewell. As he walked out of
the surgery by the side entrance, Mary Bewery, who had just
parted from young Bonham in the garden and was about to visit
her dogs in the stable yard, came along: she and Bryce met,
face to face. The girl flushed, not so much from
embarrassment as from vexation; Bryce, cool as ever, showed no
sign of any embarrassment. Instead, he laughed, tapping the
hand-bag which he carried under one arm.

"Summarily turned out--as if I had been stealing the spoons,"
he remarked. "I go--with my small belongings. This is my
first reward--for devotion."