Hugh surrendered the check and then proceeded to the gate with Cynthia. He turned to her and asked gently, "May I kiss you, Cynthia?"
For an instant she looked down and said nothing; then she turned her face up to his. He kissed her tenderly, wondering why he felt no passion, afraid that he would.
"Good-by, Cynthia dear," he whispered.
Her hands fluttered helplessly about his coat lapels and then fell to her side. She managed a brave little smile. "Good-by—honey."
Carl rushed up with the bag. "Gosh, Hugh, you've got to hurry; they're closing the gate." He gripped his hand for a second. "Visit me at Bar Harbor this summer if you can."
"Sure. Good-by, old man. Good-by Cynthia."
"Good-by—good-by."
Hugh slipped through the gate and, turned to wave at Carl and Cynthia. They waved back, and then he ran for the train.
On the long trip to Haydensville Hugh relaxed. Now that the strain was over, he felt suddenly weak, but it was sweet weakness. He could graduate in peace now. The visit to New York had been worth while. And what do you know, bumping into old Carl like that I Cynthia and he were friends, too, the best friends in the world, but she no longer wanted to marry him. That was fine.... He remembered the picture she and Carl had made standing on the other side of the gate from him. "What a peach of a pair. Golly, wouldn't it be funny if they hit it off...."
He thought over every word that he and Cynthia had said. She certainly had been square all right. Not many like her, but "by heaven, I knew down in my heart all the time that I didn't want to get married or even engaged. It would have played hell with everything."