"Yes? As usual? In the end I shall certainly be stamped out!" He shook his head with a whimsically humorous gravity. "Part of the objection to me is simply because I'm so large." That was actually true when I came to think of it. His size seemed an oppression--a perpetual threat--in itself a form of bullying. Small men could have said the things he did with only half the offense; the other half lay in his physical security. "Try to counteract that by improving your manners," I said, smiling at him in a friendly amusement. "Let the grizzly bear put on silk knee-breeches--wouldn't he look elegant? Good-by, Austin. Take care of her!" "Since you say that again--you know I would--with my life." "And I--to my death. And I seem to die to-day." There was nothing to be said to that. We walked out into the open air together. I rejoiced that he was going, and yet was sad. Something of what Jenny felt was upon me then--the interest of him, the challenge to try and to discover, the greatness of the effort to influence, the audacity of the notion of ruling. The danger of him--and his bulk! A Dark Continent he seemed in himself! I could not but be sorry that my little ship was now to lose sight of the coasts of it. But there was a nobler craft--almost driven on to its rocks, still tossing in its breakers. For her a fair wind off land and an open sea! As we stood before my door, I awaiting Octon's departure, he perhaps loath to look his last on a scene which must carry for him such significance, I saw Lacey coming toward me on horseback. He beckoned to me in token that he wanted me. "Ah, an opportunity for another good-by!" said Octon grimly. Lacey brought his horse to a stand by us, but did not dismount. "I'm trespassing, I'm afraid, Lord Lacey! My being in this park is against the law, isn't it?" Octon's opening was not very conciliatory, but Lacey's good-humor was proof against him. Moreover the lad looked preoccupied. "I'm not out for a row to-day, Mr. Octon," he said. "I want just one word with you, Austin." "Then I'll be off," said Octon. He nodded to me; he did not offer to shake hands again. "I'll come and see you off to-morrow morning. The eleven-five, I suppose?" That was the fast train to London. "Yes. All right, I shall be glad to see you. To Lord Lacey--and his friends--this is good-by." "You're going away?" asked Lacey, joy and relief plain in his voice. "Yes. You seem very glad." "I am glad," said young Lacey, "but I mean no offense, Mr. Octon." Their eyes met fair and square. I expected an angry outburst from Octon, but none came; his look was moody again, but it was not fierce. He looked restless and unhappy, but he spoke with dignity. "I recognize that. I take no offense. Good-by, Lord Lacey." With a slight lift of his hat, courteously responded to by Lacey, he turned his back on us and walked away with his heavy slouching gait, his head sunk low on his shoulders. We watched him go for a moment or two in silence.