He felt better.

With a sudden revulsion of feeling, he began to utter inward imprecations against his folly, against the house he had just left, against everybody and everything in general, not forgetting poor little Nellie.
"If ever I cross that threshold again--" he muttered with tragic emphasis.

His face was still red, and he swung his stick ferociously as he strode towards the vicarage.

Several little boys in ragged smock-frocks saw him and thought he had had some beer, even as their own fathers, and made vulgar gestures when his back was turned.
So poor John packed his portmanteau and left the vicarage early on the following morning.

He sent an excuse to Mr.Juxon explaining that the urgency of his work called him back sooner than he had expected, and when the train moved fairly off towards Cambridge he felt that in being spared the ordeal of shaking hands with his rival he had at least escaped some of the bitterness of his fate; as he rolled along he thought very sadly of all that had happened in that short time which was to have been so gay and which had come to such a miserable end.
Reflecting calmly upon his last interview with Mrs.Goddard, he was surprised to find that his memory failed him.