and he had saved the letter until,
in moving about, it had been lost. He was annoyed when he missed it, but
on second thought he wondered if it were not just as well. For, on
later inspection, it might not have proved so remarkable, after all.

Well, the war was now over, and he was back at Woodbridge. It would be
very pleasant indeed if she had gone ahead as she gave promise of doing;
and why in the world shouldn't she? When he was in college Nancy had
been admittedly the first of Woodbridge young ladies. To take her to a
dance was to have the ultimate in good times, there was no need to worry
about her getting "stuck," and in addition to the thrill of taking a
popular girl one could enjoy all the advantages of a stag. One could
flit from flower to flower until surfeited with beauty and then retire
for a smoke or other innocent diversion without the haunting fear that
possibly Dick or Bill was circling around and around in ever-deepening
gloom with one's elected for the night. Nancy had permanently impressed
herself upon the imagination of discerning Woodbridge youth, and it was
hardly extravagant that Tom should look forward to her return.

Let it, therefore, without further evasion, be stated at once that he
did look forward to her return.

IV

Nancy Whitman arrived at Woodbridge Center as planned, and her brother
and nephew were at the station to meet her, the latter with his
collection of ninety-six orange pips in a candy box.

In describing Juliet it will be remembered that the author said nothing
about her colour or dimensions, but described her indirectly, and
succeeding generations have had their attention called to the merit of
the performance. We know, for example, that she taught the candles to
burn bright, and, furthermore, that she seemed to hang upon the cheek of
night like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear--most probably a pearl. So,
in describing Nancy, perhaps it would be effective to point out that the
snow began thawing as soon as she arrived, that the motor which carried
her home from the station purred along without the "knock" that had been
troubling it, and that Tutors' Lane was less bumpy as they passed over
it. But such a description, being dangerously near burlesque, however
refined and genteel, must not be thought of for a moment in connection
with a prominent resident of Tutors' Lane. It is something of a pity,
nevertheless, that it must be given up, for Nancy was not particularly