She walked rapidly away. Only once had she looked at him all the time—after that first glance of recognition, her face had been averted.
Captain Cavendish watched her out of sight, took two or three turns up and down the sand, and then strolled away to his lodgings. His rooms were in the Speckport House, fronting on Queen Street; and after disposing of his beefsteak and coffee with a very good appetite, he seated himself near an open window, to smoke no end of cigars and watch the passers-by.
A great many passers-by there were, and nearly all strangers to him; but presently, two young men went strutting past, arm-in-arm, and, chancing to look at his window, lifted their hats in passing. A sudden thought seemed to flash through the officer's mind as he saw them, and, seizing his hat, he started out after them. It was young McGregor and Charley Marsh, and he speedily overtook them.
"I have been sitting there for over half an hour," he said, taking Charley's other arm, familiarly, "watching society go by, and you two were the first I knew. Being tired of my own company, I thought I would join you. Have a cigar?"
"You find Speckport rather slow, I suppose?" said Charley, lighting his weed. "I should myself, if I had nothing to do."
"Oh, I am used to it; and," with a droll look, "I have discovered there is more than one pill to kill time, even in Speckport."
"Already! where do you mean?"
"Prince Street, for instance."
Charley laughed, and young McGregor smiled.
"You go there, do you? Well, I have lived all my life in Speckport, but I have never set foot over the threshold you mean, yet."