But, as we have seen, both were disappointed.
Harry Hawthorne lay ill and suffering at the hospital, and there was no one to tell Geraldine the story of his accident.
Her young heart was heavy with pain and wonder all the next day, but still no message came to explain or excuse his failure to keep his engagement.
Only some fair young girl as loving and tender as our sweet Geraldine, who has been disappointed as she was, can realize her silent grief that day as she stood behind the counter, patiently waiting on exacting customers and trying to seem cheerful and interested when she was longing to be alone in her own room, to bury her head in the pillow and have a good, comforting cry.
She was wretched with doubt and suspense.
And only yesterday she had been so wildly happy.
Late in the afternoon Clifford Standish came into the store to buy a pair of gloves.
He was bright, smiling, and elegant as ever, and chatted gayly with Geraldine.
"I have some good news for you this evening," he whispered, but the girl scarcely smiled.
She knew that he would not bring her any tidings of Harry Hawthorne, and it seemed to her that she cared for nothing else.