A week later, and Sydney was at the Deanery again.
Hugh’s hero, the great surgeon who gave his services to the Blue-friars Hospital, had come down to see St. Quentin, and perform on him the operation which had saved the life of the man Duncombe.
Under these circumstances Lady Frederica declined absolutely remaining at the Castle.
“My nerves really wouldn’t stand it,” she explained. “I hate anything to do with illness, but hitherto St. Quentin’s has been kept comparatively in the background: in fact, it has been possible to forget it. But an operation—with doctors and nurses hovering¹ round—and bulletins upon the door, and people expecting one to have a full, true, and particular account of how the patient is at one’s finger’s ends! No, thank you. I shall go to town, and Sydney shall come with me.”
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But Sydney rebelled, and appealed against the verdict to her cousin.
“If I must go away, let me go to the Deanery!” she implored³. “I can’t go with Lady Frederica! I must go to somebody who cares too!”
A flush swept over St. Quentin’s face.
“Who cares too?” he muttered, then with an effort turned to her and spoke⁴ aloud.
“Sydney, I’ll tell you this. If, in God’s mercy, I get through the operation, I am going to follow your advice, and tell the girl I love just everything, as I told you.”
Sydney got her way, and went to the Deanery, accompanied by Miss Osric, leaving Lady Frederica to go off to town alone.
The third day of her absence from the Castle had come—a long dreary⁵ day, which seemed unending. It was to relieve the strain of that waiting time that Katharine suggested, when the shadows were falling long about the Close, that they should go across to Oliver’s, to choose a gold chain as a birthday present for the little cousin Sylvia, whose birthday was to be on the morrow.
Action of any kind was something of a comfort, and Sydney came.
A shabbily-dressed man was just concluding
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 some bargain with the jeweller as the two girls came into the shop—some bargain with which he seemed very much dissatisfied. “It’s worth ever so much more, confound you for a screw!” they heard him say. “Why, that’s two quid less than you gave the parson for it. I only brought it here because I thought you’d give a better price for your own thing.”

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