The Plastic Age · Chapter 22 (3/3)

“No!” She stood up decisively. “No. I hate loose ends.” She glanced at her tiny wristwatch. “If I’m going to make that train, I’ve got to hurry. We’ve got barely half an hour. Come, Hugh. Be a sport.”

He stood up, his face white and weary, his blue eyes dull and sad.

“Just as you say, Cynthia,” he said slowly. “But I’m going to miss you like hell.”

She did not reply but started silently for the path. He followed her, and they walked back to the fraternity house without saying a word, both busy with unhappy thoughts.

When they reached the fraternity, she got her suitcase, handed it to him, declined his offer of a taxi, and walked unhappily by his side down the hill that they had climbed so gaily two days before. Hugh had just time to get her ticket before the train started.

She paused a moment at the car steps and held out her hand. “Goodbye, Hugh,” she said softly, her lips trembling, her eyes full of tears.

“Goodbye, Cynthia,” he whispered. And then, foolishly, “Thanks for coming.”

She did not smile but drew her hand from his and mounted the steps. An instant later she was inside the car and the train was moving.

Numbed and miserable, Hugh slowly climbed the hill and wandered back to Norry Parker’s room. He was glad that Norry wasn’t there. He paced up and down the room a few minutes trying to think. Then he threw himself despairingly on a couch, face down. He wanted to cry; he had never wanted so much to cry⁠—and he couldn’t. There were no tears⁠—and he had lost something very precious. He thought it was love; it was only his dreams.