The WINDOW at the WHITE CAT

In my criminal work anything that wears skirts is a lady, until the law
proves her otherwise. From the frayed and slovenly petticoats of the
woman who owns a poultry stand in the market and who has grown wealthy
by selling chickens at twelve ounces to the pound, or the silk sweep of
Mamie Tracy, whose diamonds have been stolen down on the avenue, or the
staidly respectable black and middle-aged skirt of the client whose
husband has found an affinity partial to laces and fripperies, and has
run off with her--all the wearers are ladies, and as such announced by
Hawes. In fact, he carries it to excess. He speaks of his wash lady,
with a husband who is an ash merchant, and he announced one day in some
excitement, that the lady who had just gone out had appropriated all the
loose change out of the pocket of his overcoat.