In answer Nick would put one hand — one broad, brown, steel-strong hand with its broken discoloured nails — on Miss Ahearn’s arm, in its flimsy georgette sleeve. Miss Ahearn’s eyelids would flutter and close, and a little shiver would run with icy-hot feet all over Miss Ahearn.

Nick was like that.

Nick’s real name wasn’t Nick at all — or scarcely at all. His last name was Nicholas, and his parents, long before they became his parents, traced their origin to some obscure Czechoslovakian province — long before we became so glib with our Czechoslovakia. His first name was Dewey, knowing which you automatically know the date of his birth. It was a patriotic but unfortunate choice on the part of his parents. The name did not fit him; was too