She knew that above all things he loved high tea--fish pie and boiled eggs and tea and jam and cake--a horrible meal that his later judgment would utterly condemn, but nevertheless something so cosy and so comfortable that no later meal would ever be able to rival it in those qualities.
"Oh, that will be lovely!" he said, his face shining all over.
Nevertheless, as the afternoon advanced a strange new sense of insecurity, unhappiness and forlornness crept increasingly upon him.

He realised that he had that morning said good-bye to the town, and now he felt as though he had, in some way, hurt or insulted it.

And, all the afternoon, he was saying farewell to the house.

He did not wander from room to room, but rather sat up in the schoolroom pretending to mend a fishing rod which Mr.Monk had given him that summer.

He did not really care about the rod--he was not even thinking of it.