He didn't come!
She was relieved as the train started—yet she hated to feel he could really let her go like that!
She never guessed at the depth of suffering she had brought him. How could she appreciate what she could never feel? She never dreamed that as the train pulled out into the storm he stood at the end of the station, and watched it slowly round the curve under the bridge and pass out of sight. No one was near to see him turn aside, and rest his arms against the brick wall, to bury his face in them, and sob like a child, utterly oblivious of the storm that beat upon him.
And he sat down.
"Come on," yelled the Youngster, "where's the claque?" And he began to applaud furiously.
"Oh, if there is a claque, the rest of us don't need to exert ourselves," said the Lawyer, indolently.
"But I say," asked the Youngster, after the Journalist had made his best bow. "I am disappointed. Was that all?"
"My goodness," commented the Doctor, as he lighted a fresh cigar. "Isn't that enough?"
"Not for me," replied the Youngster. "I want to know about her début. Was she a success?"