A few minutes’ wait. There was a general hustle, pros stretching their legs, running to the refreshment-room for a drink, some seeking seats in the train, others saying good-by:
“Write to me, eh? Cathedral Hotel, Melbourne.”
And a shake of the hand; so long; perhaps for ever. More basket trunks were being trundled down the platform. A wife was leaving her husband: six months, twelve months, without meeting; who could tell? Or else, perhaps, between two trains, as the luck of the tours would have it; and they seemed very fond of each other, too; Lily thought it very pretty. But she had other things to do than sentimentalize. She handed out her parcels to Glass-Eye and then, standing on the platform, said good-by to the Three Graces:
“Hope you’ll have a good journey! Au revoir! Send me some post-cards,” said Lily. “Address them to the theater, I love that! Good-by! Ta-ta!”
The train started. Lily waved her handkerchief to the Three Graces.
One more separation; one more little rent: Lily had had so many in her life. As far back as she could remember there had been heads at the carriage-window, like that; ships standing out to sea; trains rushing into the night. But, this time, she was alone, with her maid. And she drew herself up proudly, like a lady who had a sense of her responsibilities. A new life was opening before Lily, as before a girl just coming out. Poor Lily, a girl still, in her way, yes, with, for her portion, a feather in her hat, a gollywog in her trunk, a pair of supple legs and nerves of steel, unerring and exact, trained to turn round and round....
CHAPTER II
“Liverpool! Come along, Glass-Eye!” said Lily, jogging her maid in the ribs.