The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. And two other ladies. "Be it as you please," replied Winifred. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. Few men could have done as much.
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