” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. Nicholas had not dared to tell his father about the Valade girl. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork.
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