"I won't go out of it," said Olva. "I'll write if you'd like—and perhaps we'll meet. I'll be always your friend. And—look here—I'll tell Margaret—Miss Craven—about you, and she'll ask you to go and see her, and if you two are friends it'll be a kind of alliance between all of us, won't it?"
Bunning was happier—"Oh, but she'll think me such an ass!"
"Oh no, she won't, she's much too clever, And, Bunning, don't let yourself be driven by people. Stick to the thing you want to do—you'll find something all right. Just go on here and wait until you're shown. Sit with your ears open——"
Bunning filled his mouth with toast. "If you'll write to me and keep up with me I'll do anything."
"And one thing—Don't tell any one I'm going. I shall just slip out of college early the day after to-morrow. I don't want any one to know. It's nobody's affair but mine."
Then he held out his hand—"Good-bye, Bunning, old man."
"Good-bye," said Bunning.
When Olva had gone he sat down by the fire again, staring.
Some hours afterwards he spoke, suddenly, aloud: "I can stand the lot of them now."
Then he went to bed.