That only added gall to his bitterness, new fuel to his stubborn pride, new strength to the wall between them.
He sat brooding in his office, when the business letters were written--to the Bank-manager; to Captain Halliwell, the Police-magistrate at Leuraville; to the Manager of the Eastern and Australian Steam Navigation Depot, Leuraville, enclosing a draft to pay the passage; to the Captain of the boat advertised for that trip, who happened to be an acquaintance of his--all recommending Lady Bridget to the different people's care--all anticipating and arranging against every possible drawback to her comfort on the voyage--all carefully stating the object of her trip to England--business connected with the death of a near relative.

Then, after the ghastly pretence of dinner--during which appearances were kept up unnecessarily before Maggie and the Malay boy, by a forced discussion of matter-of-fact details--looking out the exact time of the putting in of the next E.
and A.boat at Leuraville--all of which he had already done, and pointing out to Bridget that she could catch it, with a day to spare.
There was food for the journey too, to be thought of, and other things to talk about.

As soon as the meal was ended, McKeith went back to the office, and Bridget saw or heard no more of him that night.

He did not come even to his dressing-room.

She concluded that he was 'camping' on the bunk in the office, and when her own packing was done, she lay in wakeful misery till dawn brought a troubled doze.
Her packing was no great business--clothes for the voyage, and a big furred cloak for warmth, when she should arrive in England in the depth of winter--that was all.
Everything else--her papers, knicknacks, personal belongings--she left just as they were.