“And did I acquit myself to your satisfaction?” queried Philip, with a smiling and admiring glance, which plainly indicated where his present interest centered.
“That goes without saying,” Gertrude replied, though she flushed slightly.
Then she seemed as if about to add something, but suddenly checked herself, while a look of thoughtfulness settled over her countenance, and her companion observed that she scanned every face they met, as if in search of some one.
An hour and a half later, when the party broke up and they were on their way out of the building, they encountered in one of the halls some students who were just coming in. Clifford was among them.
Gertrude espied him instantly, and her eyes lighted with pleasure, for she had been hoping to meet him, and his was the face she had been watching for. She turned away from her companion and went directly to him, her white-gloved hand cordially outstretched to greet him.
“Mr. Faxon,” she began, in her bright, vivacious way, “I am so glad of this opportunity. I hoped I should meet you to-day, and I want to congratulate you—your oration was positively grand.”
Clifford smiled as he doffed his hat and took the proffered hand.
“It certainly is a great pleasure to me to meet you again, Miss Athol,” he heartily responded, then added modestly, “and thank you for your commendation, but I fear you dignify my effort beyond its worth.”
“Indeed I do not, and, I assure you, I am only one out of many who have voiced the same opinion,” Gertrude earnestly replied. Then, as she saw he was averse to being made conspicuous, she inquired: “Are you glad to get through with your course?”
“Yes, glad on some accounts, although I have thoroughly enjoyed my four years’ work. One always is glad to attain a goal he has been seeking, you know. But now I have to begin the real battle of life.”