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. ‘Aye, sir. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. Through all he said ran one quality that pleased her—the quality of a man who feels that things can be done, that one need not wait for the world to push one before one moved. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. Then Capes flittered to the hearthrug and poked the fire, stood up, and turned about.
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