He'd be more likely to come if he knew _you_ were here." Raby flushed.

Between Percy and his cousin there was no hypocrisy.
"Oh, Percy," she said, "do you want to make me fifty times more miserable ?" And she gave up further attempt to move him.
The travellers were away a month, during which time Percy kept his lonely vigil at Clarges Street.

As the reader knows, it was useless.
Jeffreys was never near the place, and the lad, watching day after day, began slowly to lose hope.
But that month's experience was not wholly wasted.

Memories of bygone talks with his friend, of good advice given, and quiet example unheeded at the time, crowded in on Percy's memory now; adding to his sense of loss, certainly, but reminding him that there was something else to be done than mope and fret.
What would Jeffreys have had him do?
he often asked himself; and the answer was plain and direct--work.

That had always been Jeffreys' cure for everything.