"
"You'd better not pledge yourself."
"I do. I've failed you often enough since we started! I won't fail this
time, you'll see. The thing you want must exist somewhere within a radius
of ten miles, and I'm going to lasso it."
"But you didn't engage as a lassoer of nighties. You engaged as trail
guide."
"If anything is wanted along the trail, why then it's the business of the
trail guide to get it. Don't you worry about your arrangements, Mrs. May."
"I don't. Meanwhile, I may find some kind of a garment lurking on a
forgotten shelf of the candy-drugs-grocery shop."
"If you do, it wouldn't be worthy of you. But you can try," said Nick
dubiously. And after a late luncheon, she did try, in vain. Other
necessaries were forthcoming, but nighties were things that you had to
bring into the Yosemite Valley, it would seem, or do without. Angela said
nothing of her failure. She supposed that Nick would forget her plight if
she made little of it; but she did not know him thoroughly yet. They took
a walk, and the momentous subject was not mentioned: nevertheless, it
pressed upon Nick's thoughts. As he talked, the "nighty" that was not, and
must be, weighed upon his mind as heavily as though it were a coat of mail
instead of the gossamer creation he imagined.
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