“You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. It came to her that to marry any one but Capes was impossible. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior.
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