He knew that Farlingford would want some explanation, and that Sep would be proud to give it.

An explanation is never the worse for a spice of truth.
"Miriam told me you were never coming home again," answered Sep, still nourishing that grievance.
"Well, she was wrong, and here I am!" was Loo's reply, with his old, ready laugh.

"And here is Farlingford--unchanged, and no harm done." "Why should there be any harm done ?" was Sep's prompt question.
Barebone was shaking hands with Miriam.
"Oh, I don't know," he answered.

"Because there always is harm done, I suppose." Miriam was thinking that he had changed; that the man who had unmoored his boat at these steps six months ago had departed for ever, and that another had come back in his place.

A minute later, as he turned to close the gate that shut off the rectory garden from the river-wall, chance ruled it that their eyes should meet for an instant, and she knew that he had not changed; that he might, perhaps, never change so long as he lived.