Hilary was writing, and held his hand for silence. Then he finished a page and blotted it. Various papers littered his desk, and, among others, lay a large one, rolled up and tied round the middle with pink tape. "Good-morning, Dan. This is a funny coincidence. I sent for you an hour ago. You missed my messenger." "I met no messenger." Woodrow rose and took his pipe from the mantelshelf. "Let's have your business first, then you shall know mine. Sit down. We don't see one another often enough. I wish you'd come more frequently." Brendon took a chair and put his soft black hat under it. "'Tis harder to speak afore those kind words, master. And yet--I've got to do it. I want to go--I must go. This is to give notice, please. I'll suit your convenience, of course. Perhaps after Christmas. I'm mighty sorry for many reasons. Still, 'twill be the best thing." An expression of real pain crossed the face of Hilary Woodrow. "How can you say this, Daniel? Don't you care more than that for me? I thought--why, good God--I hold you dearer than almost anybody in the world! You're far, far more to me than a servant. You--a friend--to say this! You, my right hand, to ask to be cut off!" "I know you set store by me. I know how good you've been--yet--we can't say all we know. You mustn't think 'tis a small thing; you mustn't think I'm not grateful, master. I owe you far more than 'tis in my power to pay. I pray for you. 'Tis all I can do--all the poor can do for the rich--to pray for 'em. My work's nought. That's the everyday business between man and man. For that you pay, and pay well. But prayer's beyond. I tell you this because, afore I go, I want you to know I'm more than just a strong man working for wages." "You shall not go! This is a matter far beyond the farm, or the welfare of the farm. You are a great deal to me. You are an example to me and to all of us. While you have prayed for me, I--I haven't prayed, since I know of nothing to pray to that has ears to hear--but I've done what I could--according to my lights." "I know that. You've been good and generous to me. There's nothing--nothing I can say against you." "I can't part with you, Dan. I won't believe the reason is beyond explanation. Be honest with me--absolutely. Tell me why this idea has come to you. You're at a point far more vital in your career than you think for. Don't leave any shadow or uncertainty. Be dead straight about it, Dan." Brendon did not answer, but he struggled fiercely with himself. He was a great-hearted man, and now, within sound of his master's voice, in sight of his earnest eyes, his reason dwindled somewhat. Suddenly he blurted out the truth. "Jarratt Weekes told me a while ago that you saw too much of Sarah Jane. I believe that he said it without malice. He thought so--like as not others do." A great expiration left the lungs of Woodrow.