's first public and official rebuff. Catsford
would have to be told what had been decided, why no more was done about
the Institute. I had no doubt that Alison had thought of this and had
worded his resolution with a view to its publication.

Fillingford and Alison went out of the room together, and I was left
with Bindlecombe. (We had met at his house, Ivydene being shut up.) "I'm
very sorry for this, Mr. Austin," he said.

I was very sorry, too. The decision would not be a grateful one to
Jenny. It was an intimation that her idea of keeping her hold on
Catsford, even while she defied it, would not work; the dual personality
of munificent Miss Driver of Breysgate and wayward Jenny Driver--of
where?--would not find acceptance.

"A winter abroad is not eternity, Mr. Bindlecombe," said I, smiling. "We
shall be busy at the Institute again by the spring, I hope." That, of
course, was speaking to my cue--Jenny's official version of her
departure; she was wintering abroad--that was all.

"I hope so, I hope so," he said, but he hardly pretended that he was
imposed upon. He shook his head dolefully and looked at me with a gloomy
significance. "The Rector's a hard fellow to deal with. Pleasant as can
be, but hard as a brick on--well, where his own views come in. He's not
a man of the world, Mr. Austin."

Evidently in Bindlecombe's opinion a man of the world would have stuck
to the Institute, even if he could not stick to its donor--stuck to the
Institute and carved _Non Olet_ on its handsome facade; it would have
been in no worse case than many imposing public buildings--to say
nothing of luxurious private residences. But Alison was not a man of the
world--and in this instance the current of opinion was with him. The two
worlds joined in condemning Jenny; neither as an individual nor as a
local institution could she be defended. A lurking loyalty in
Bindlecombe--if I mistook not, a reluctant admiration in Lacey--were the
only exceptions to the general verdict--outside her own retainers. I do
not think that we asked ourselves questions about approval or
disapproval, condemnation or condonation. We were not judges; we were,
in one way, in the fight.

To my surprise Alison was waiting outside the house. When I came out, he
approached me.

"Austin, I want you to shake hands with me," he said. "I had to do that,
you know. You don't suppose I liked doing it?"

"I'll shake hands," I said. "I'm not particular. But I don't feel