Catching sight of him through the open door, Alan
entered, shutting it behind him. Finding his key ring he removed from
it the keys of his desk and of the office strongroom, and handed them
to the clerk who, methodical in everything, proceeded to write a formal
receipt.
"You are leaving us, Major Vernon?" he said interrogatively as he signed
the paper.
"Yes, Jeffreys," answered Alan, then prompted by some impulse, added,
"Are you sorry?"
Mr. Jeffreys looked up and there were traces of unwonted emotion upon
his hard, regulated face.
"For myself, yes, Major--for you, on the whole, no."
"What do you mean, Jeffreys? I do not quite understand."
"I mean, Major, that I am sorry because you have never tried to shuffle
off any shady business on to my back and leave me to bear the brunt of
it; also because you have always treated me as a gentleman should, not
as a machine to be used until a better can be found, and kicked aside
when it goes out of order."
"It is very kind of you to say so, Jeffreys, but I can't remember having
done anything particular."
"No, Major, you can't remember what comes natural to you. But I and the
others remember, and that's why I am sorry.
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