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And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. ” Her mind went off to Capes. Near as idiot as this capitaine of yours. There was some one there. He rather liked the "sir"; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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