He ran to the window, and was astonished to see his friend already on horseback, taking leave of his host.
For one instant Clarence felt one of those sudden revulsions of feeling common to his age, but which he had always timidly hidden under dogged demeanor.

Flynn, his only friend! Flynn, his only boyish confidant! Flynn, his latest hero, was going away and forsaking him without a word of parting! It was true that he had only agreed to take him to his guardian, but still Flynn need not have left him without a word of hope or encouragement! With any one else Clarence would probably have taken refuge in his usual Indian stoicism, but the same feeling that had impelled him to offer Flynn his boyish confidences on their first meeting now overpowered him.

He dropped his book, ran out into the corridor, and made his way to the court-yard, just as Flynn galloped out from the arch.
But the boy uttered a despairing shout that reached the rider.

He drew rein, wheeled, halted, and sat facing Clarence impatiently.

To add to Clarence's embarrassment his cousin had lingered in the corridor, attracted by the interruption, and a peon, lounging in the archway, obsequiously approached Flynn's bridle-rein.