In the teachers’ room the teachers were chatting and loitering, talking excitedly of where they were going: to the Isle of Man, to Llandudno, to Yarmouth. They were eager, and attached to each other, like comrades leaving a ship. Then it was Mr. Harby’s turn to make a speech to Ursula. He looked handsome, with his silver-grey temples and black brows, and his imperturbable male solidity. “Well,” he said, “we must say good-bye to Miss Brangwen and wish her all good fortune for the future. I suppose we shall see her again some time, and hear how she is getting on.” “Oh, yes,” said Ursula, stammering, blushing, laughing. “Oh, yes, I shall come and see you.” Then she realized that this sounded too personal, and she felt foolish. “Miss Schofield suggested these two books,” he said, putting a couple of volumes on the table: “I hope you will like them.” Ursula feeling very shy picked up the books. There was a volume of Swinburne’s poetry, and a volume of Meredith’s. “Oh, I shall love them,” she said. “Thank you very much—thank you all so much—it is so——” She stuttered to an end, and very red, turned the leaves of the books eagerly, pretending to be taking the first pleasure, but really seeing nothing. Mr. Harby’s eyes were twinkling. He alone was at his ease, master of the situation. It was pleasing to him to make Ursula the gift, and for once extend good feeling to his teachers. As a rule, it was so difficult, each one was so strained in resentment under his rule. “Yes,” he said, “we hoped you would like the choice——” He looked with his peculiar, challenging smile for a moment, then returned to his cupboards. Ursula felt very confused. She hugged her books, loving them. And she felt that she loved all the teachers, and Mr. Harby. It was very confusing. At last she was out. She cast one hasty glance over the school buildings squatting on the asphalt yard in the hot, glistening sun, one look down the well-known road, and turned her back on it all. Something strained in her heart. She was going away. “Well, good luck,” said the last of the teachers, as she shook hands at the end of the road. “We’ll expect you back some day.” He spoke in irony. She laughed, and broke away. She was free. As she sat on the top of the tram in the sunlight, she looked round her with tremendous delight. She had left something which had meant much to her. She would not go to school any more, and do the familiar things. Queer! There was a little pang amid her exultation, of fear, not of regret. Yet how she exulted this morning! She was tremulous with pride and joy. She loved the two books. They were tokens to her, representing the fruit and trophies of her two years which, thank God, were over.