"Play," he whispered after a long silence. "It is the end of adolescence," he said; "the end of empty dreams...." He became very still, his hands resting on the table, his eyes staring out of the blue oblong of the window. The dwindling light gathered itself together and became a star. He found he was still holding the torn fragments. He stretched out his hand and dropped them into that new waste-paper basket Ethel had bought for him. Two pieces fell outside the basket. He stooped, picked them up, and put them carefully with their fellows.