Nicholas had not dared to tell his father about the Valade girl. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt. So he decided to stay. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. "Oh God! how fearfully my father is avenged!" "True," replied Jack, sternly; "but we have our uncle to avenge.
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