33 <5> LUCY MAKES A FRIEND English class was a sleepy affair, made sleepier by the fact that the school year was drawing to a close. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. I've a question to ask him. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible.
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