She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. “Who can tell?” she said. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. Certain phases of irony always caused him to chuckle audibly. ’ ‘Pah! How can it be romantic? That is silly. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. And finally, when Jeremiah, having bestowed upon Mrs. CHAPTER II. “We banished his experiments to here in the basement from then on.
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