Then he helped
her to pack, and finally he accompanied her to Euston, where she
kissed him with affectionate common sense and caught the twelve five.
He was relieved that nobody from the Five Towns happened to be going
down by that train.
As he turned away from the moving carriage the evening papers had just
arrived at the bookstalls. He bought the four chief organs--one green,
one yellowish, one white, one pink--and scanned them self-consciously
on the platform. The white organ had a good heading: "Re-birth of the
intellectual drama in London. What a provincial has done. Opinions of
leading men." Two columns altogether! There was, however, little in
the two columns. The leading men had practised a sagacious caution.
They, like the press as a whole, were obviously waiting to see which
way the great elephantine public would jump. When the enormous animal
had jumped they would all exclaim: "What did I tell you?" The other
critiques were colourless. At the end of the green critique occurred
the following sentence: "It is only fair to state, nevertheless,
that the play was favourably received by an apparently enthusiastic
audience."
"Nevertheless!" ... "Apparently!"
Edward Henry turned the page to the theatrical advertisements.
"REGENT THEATRE. (Twenty yards from Piccadilly Circus.) 'The
Orient Pearl,' by Carlo Trent.
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