audience, the chorus, the spectator at the drama; in his own life he would have no drama.

The train was rushing up.

Ursula's heart heaved, but the ice was frozen too strong upon it.

“Good-bye,” she said, lifting her hand, her face laughing with her peculiar, blind, almost dazzling laugh. She wondered what he was doing, when he stooped and kissed her. He should be shaking hands and going.

“Good-bye,” she said again.

He picked up his little bag and turned his back on her. There was a hurry along the train. Ah, here was his carriage. He took his seat. Tom Brangwen shut the door, and the two men shook hands as the whistle went.

“Good-bye —