Julie Bishop gleams, so polished she seems to have a reflective surface. Reflective surfaces are like a shield in politics; they are handy things to stow yourself behind.

Bishop appeared in the chamber just before question time, walking in with Scott Morrison. She was dressed in white, an eventuality of absolutely no note at all, except Bishop periodically deploys costume for effect, and it can be observed (and was) that white is the colour of the suffragette movement, the colour worn by political women in America earlier this month to Donald Trump’s state of the union address.

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Australia’s former foreign minister, the perennial deputy who forgot her place, briefly, last year, rashly running for Liberal leader, imagining her popularity and experience and external respect an asset for a political party seemingly intent on a death spiral before being trampled by the Blokes Who Knew Better – settled herself in the chamber for question time.

As the session, a grinding one, full of the snarling hostility of the final weeks of the 45th parliament, drew to a close, the word went out: Julie had something to say after question time.

Eyes tracked to the perfectly composed woman in white, in the corner, waiting for her moment. Photographers jostled for position. Eventually, Bishop rose.

She had no notes before her, but it was clear from the moment she took her feet this was going to be an impromptu valedictory of sorts.

Bishop told the chamber it was safe to depart now because the Coalition was going to win the next federal election; she had carefully observed the performance of the prime minister and the policy platform was “crystallising” in a satisfactory direction, a formulation you might read in a school report.

She was relieved, in other words, from the obligation to save the furniture, free to hand that responsibility over to Morrison, which seemed only fair, given that he decided rather emphatically last year that his was the superior capacity. May as well leave him to it.

Lest this behaviour be seen as churlish, there were all the appropriate fighting words, the badges of partisanship. Labor would lose the coming election, Bishop predicted, because Labor was, self-evidently, appalling, and had learned “nothing from its past failings, and is doomed to repeat these failings should it be re-elected”.

“Extraordinary, talented” people, “including women” (the imagine was implied rather than stated) had now come forward to replace her in the seat of Curtin. Bishop noted she had taken the seat from a 44% primary vote to a 65.6% primary vote over seven cycles: the implication being this bit of geography in the wild west should be safe, even in circumstances where the voters are carrying baseball bats. Scott. Right?

She was proud of the firsts: first woman to contest the leadership ballot of the Liberal party in its 75-year history. Australia’s first female foreign minister, proud to be replaced with another woman. Gracious to the prime ministers who had created room for her in their cabinets: John Howard, Tony Abbott, Malcolm Turnbull.

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“As I said in this place, in my first speech in November, 1998, I was brought up to believe that entering public office should be one of the highest callings and that being able to direct your energies and abilities to the betterment of your state or your country was one of the greatest contributions you could make,” Bishop said.

She believed “an individual can make a difference to the life of the times” and that belief had endured. At the beginning of her political career, she had set a goal: “To represent the people of Curtin with all the vigor and courage and ability that I had to offer, with honesty, decency, and above all, to put their interests above my own”.

Turnbull, predictably, was effusive.

Malcolm Turnbull (@TurnbullMalcolm) Thank you @JulieBishopMP for your service to our nation and our Party and, above all, your friendship over so many years. You have been our finest Foreign Minister - eloquent, elegant and always courageous advancing our national interest in these challenging times.

Abbott, also predictably, less so.

Tony Abbott (@TonyAbbottMHR) Julie Bishop was a very effective foreign minister in my government. She will always be remembered as the first woman to hold this very important post and the first woman to be Liberal deputy leader

Having concluded her contribution, Bishop swept out of the chamber, declining to be feted, or comforted, or patronised, or swept into any unwelcome arms – which is the normal span of emotions along the brimming reception lines that follow farewell speeches in the parliament.

She declined to cry herself, not where she might be seen, or watch others cry, or pretend to.

The composure was absolute, and the departure fleet of foot.

What she felt, how that moment of departure was for her, how she managed to bring herself to that point of departure, and how she endured it, was no one’s business, apart from her own. It wasn’t a tradeable commodity.

It wasn’t clear whether or not she heard Morrison, who really meant well, but despite his genuinely good intentions, deployed the tired tropes that have been deployed in Bishop’s direction her whole career as his parting gift.

The prime minister noted in his tribute one of his favourite verses was “well done, good and faithful servant” and this applied to the exemplary public service of the member for Curtin. This is a parable about humility in the service of a higher cause – but can also read like a head pat.

Bishop has always been cast in the Liberal party, as Abbott put it in 2009, as a loyal girl.

The good and faithful servant is a pliable character of their collective imaginings, a creature of the party, the patient handmaiden to power, the accessory to a succession of egos, the worthy object of their grateful disdain.

Bishop played that character to gain an access pass to power and to public service because that was what the Liberal party required, and she played it so well that many of her colleagues couldn’t fathom why she’d want to exceed it, why she had grown crushingly tired of it.

But the truth of these things is simple.

Bishop was always her own woman, whatever the requirements and compromises of the moment, behind her gleaming shield.