In a few minutes the bookstall on the platform attracted them as inevitably as a prone horse attracts a crowd. Other people were near the bookstall, and as these people were obviously leaving Llandudno, Ruth and Nellie felt a certain solace. The social outlook seemed brighter for them. Denry bought one or two penny papers, and then the newsboy began to paste up the contents poster of the _Staffordshire Signal_, which had just arrived. And on this poster, very prominent, were the words: "The Great Storm in North Wales. Special Descriptive Report." Denry snatched up one of the green papers and opened it, and on the first column of the news page saw his wondrous description, including the word "Rembrandtesque." "Graphic account by a Bursley gentleman of the scene at Llandudno," said the sub-title. And the article was introduced by the phrase, "We are indebted to Mr. E. H. Machin, a prominent figure in Bursley," etc. It was like a miracle. Do what he would, Denry could not stop his face from glowing. With false calm he gave the paper to Ruth. Her calmness in receiving it upset him. "We ’ll read it in the train," she said primly, and started to talk about something else. And she became most agreeable and companionable. Mixed up with papers and sixpenny novels on the bookstall were a number of souvenirs of Llandudno—paper-knives, pens, paper-weights, watch-cases, pen-cases, all in light wood or glass, and ornamented with coloured views of Llandudno, and also the word "Llandudno" in large German capitals, so that mistakes might not arise. Ruth remembered that she had even intended to buy a crystal paper-weight with a view of the Great Orme at the bottom. The bookstall clerk had several crystal paper-weights with views of the pier, the Hotel Majestic, the Esplanade, the Happy Valley, but none with a view of the Great Orme. He had also paper-knives and watch-cases with a view of the Great Orme. But Ruth wanted a combination of paper-weight and Great Orme, and nothing else would satisfy her. She was like that. The clerk admitted that such a combination existed, but he was sold "out of it." "Could n’t you get one and send it to me?" said Ruth. And Denry saw anew that she was incurable. "Oh, yes, miss," said the clerk. "Certainly, miss. To-morrow at latest!" And he pulled out a book. "What name?" Ruth looked at Denry, as women do look on such occasions. "Rothschild," said Denry. It may seem perhaps strange that that single word ended their engagement. But it did. She could not tolerate a rebuke. She walked away, flushing. The bookstall clerk received no order. Several persons in the vicinity dimly perceived that a domestic scene had occurred, in a flash, under their noses, on a platform of a railway station. Nellie was speedily aware that something very serious had happened, for the train took them off without Ruth speaking a syllable to Denry, though Denry raised his hat and was almost effusive.