Скратким пересказом. text. seeing people off by max beerbohm on a cold grey morning of last week i duly turned up at euston70 to see off an old friend who was starting for america. overnight we had given a farewell dinner, in which sadness was well mingled with festivity. and now, here we were, stiff and self-conscious on the platform; and framed in the window of the railway-carriage, was the face of our friend; but it was as the face of a stranger — a stranger anxious to please, an appealing stranger, an awkward stranger. "have you got everything? " asked one of us, breaking the silence. "yes, everything," said our friend, with a pleasant nod. there was a long pause. one of us, with a nod and a forced smile at the traveller, said: "well" the nod, the smile, and the unmeaning monosyllable were returned conscientiously. another pause was broken by one of us with a fit of coughing. it was an obviously assumed fit, but it served to pass the time. there was no sign of the train's departure. a middle-aged man was talking earnestly to a young lady at the next window but one to ours. his fine profile was vaguely familiar to me. the young lady was evidently american, and he was evidently english; otherwise i should have guessed from his impressive air that he was her father. in a flash i remembered. the man was hubert le ros. but how he changed since last i saw him! that was seven or eight years ago, in the strand. he was then (as usual) out of engagement, and borrowed half-a-crown. it seemed a privilege to lend anything to him. he was always magnetic. and why his magnetism had never made him successful on the london stage was always a mystery to me. he was an excellent actor. it was strange to see him, after all these years here on the platform of euston, looking so prosperous and solid. it was not only the flesh he had put on, but also the clothes, that made him hard to recognize. he looked like a banker. anyone would have been proud to be seen off by him. "stand back, please! " the train was about to start and i waved farewell to my friend. le ros did not stand back. he stood clasping in both hands the hands of the young american. "stand back, sir. please! "

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