CHAPTER II

BRIGHT ANGEL


"I was sure, when I was eighteen, that if I could but give to the world
a picture of Boyhood, flagellated by the world's stupidity and
brutality, the world would heed. At thirty, I gave up the
hope."--_Enoch's Diary_.


No one could have been a less troublesome traveling companion than
Nucky. He ate what was set before him, without comment. He sat for
endless hours on the observation platform, smoking cigarettes, his keen
eyes on the flying landscape. His blue Norfolk suit and his carefully
chosen cap and linen restored a little of the adolescent look of which
the flashy clothing of his own choosing had robbed him. No one glanced
askance at Mr. Seaton's protegé or asked the lawyer idle questions
regarding him.

And yet Nucky was very seldom out of John Seaton's thoughts: Over and
over he tried to get the boy into conversation only to be checked by a
reply that was half sullen, half impertinent. Finally, the lawyer fell
back on surmises. Was Nucky laying some deep scheme for mischief when
they reached San Francisco? John had believed fully that he and Nucky
would be friends before Chicago was passed. But he had been mistaken.