He would go in and see the place once more, and then leave it once for all.

New men and new methods might do for other people; let those who would, worship the rising star; he, at least, would be faithful to the sun which had set.

And so he got up, and walked to the chapel door, and unlocked it, fancying himself the only mourner in all the broad land, and feeding on his own selfish sorrow.
He passed through the vestibule, and then paused for a moment to glance over the empty benches.

His heart was still proud and high, and he walked up to the seat which he had last occupied as a sixth-form boy, and sat himself down there to collect his thoughts.
And, truth to tell, they needed collecting and setting in order not a little.

The memories of eight years were all dancing through his brain, and carrying him about whither they would; while, beneath them all, his heart was throbbing with the dull sense of a loss that could never be made up to him.