"Nancy has been a fool!—fine, upstanding young fellows like him aren't to be found on every coffee-bush, that I can tell you."
"Maybe it'll come all right yet," said Dawson soothingly.
"Maybe not. She has given him a nasty whack, and I think myself he has a pride. My old boy will fetch me to-day, and everything here is now settled, and cleared up, and the Travers' belongings are packed and ready for the road. I believe the new acting-manager comes to-morrow. My, what a change!" she added gloomily; "and all in one little week."
"Yes, and somehow I can't realize it," said Dawson. "As I sit here, I half expect to see Travers riding up from the Factory on his brown pony, and Nancy flying along this verandah, like a gale of wind."
"Aye, that's true," assented Mrs. Hicks, and she heaved a great sigh; "we have all had good times here, and the Travers' can never be replaced," and again she sighed heavily.
Meanwhile Mayne was writing rapidly on the estate note-paper:
Dear Nancy,
I have received your letter, and accept the situation, all shall be as you wish. I am sorry to find that you dislike me so inveterately, and decline what you describe as 'Payment'—but it cannot be helped. Let me assure you, that I have no intention of coming into your life, and the marriage, as far as I am concerned, shall be as though it had never taken place. I have arranged to make you a yearly allowance (£250) which will be paid to our mutual friend, Ted Dawson. The estate and personal affairs have been satisfactorily settled.
Yours faithfully,
Derek Danvers Mayne.
When he handed this note to Mrs. Hicks, she turned it over, looked at the superscription, and remarked: