Reggie stood for a long time just as Tony had left him. “One by one the lamps go out,” he murmured, quoting a line from one of his own verses. He sighed. “So runs, so runs the world away....” There was a queer sharp pain at his heart. He sat down at last and opened his Horace again, and began to read, but the words conveyed no sense to his mind. He threw his arms out once, and whispered softly, pathetically, “Oh, Tony, Tony.... God bless you, boy; God bless you!” Back in Number Five Jimmie and Tony were absorbed in the last stages of the packing. Morris, to whom Tony had explained the occasion of his going, had come in and was helping them. And his presence went a great way to cheer them up, for Morris refused for an instant, even in his own mind, to consider the possibility of Deering not coming back. He eased off their good-byes, and sent Lawrence over to cheer up Carroll, whom he knew would feel it more than the rest, for it was good-bye to Tony for him as he was in the Sixth and would be at Kingsbridge next year when Tony returned. Deering said good-bye to Finch, quickly, quietly, he had time for little explanation. Finch said nothing, but died of despair within. On the way down the corridor Tony passed Kit, a generous word was on his lips, their eyes met for a second, but Kit looked quickly away, and Tony passed on. The opportunity for a reconciliation was gone. Morris drove in to Monday Port with the boy and saw him off on the way-train for Coventry. With persistent tact, he continued to treat the parting as only a temporary one, and refused himself the melancholy pleasure of saying much to his young friend that was in his heart and that Tony might have been glad to hear. It was better so, thought Morris. The kind things could be written, if the need came. There was a quick, short, strong grip of their hands at last, and Tony climbed into the train. He stowed his things in the empty car, and then went and stood on the rear platform and waved his hand to Morris as the train pulled out of the little station, and strained his eyes to see the last of the master’s patient, kindly friendly figure until darkness blotted out the vision. The train was rushing through the outskirts of the little town. Beyond the limits it ascended a steep grade and ran along a high level plateau for a way, and thence Tony caught a glimpse of the lights of the school shining brightly from the far-away hill, wafting him, it seemed, a friendly good-bye across the dark. Suddenly the train plunged into a narrow cut in a hill and Deering could see the lights of Deal no more.