“Neston?”
“Certainly.”
“Then you’re in nice time; I wanted you, young man. D’ye see that woman?”
“Certainly; I see Mrs. Witt.”
“D’ye know what she is? Time you did, if you’re a-going to take her to church.”
Neaera started.
“I hope to do so,” said George, smiling; “and I think I know all about her.”
“Do ye, now? Happen ever to have heard of Peckton?”
Neaera buried her face in her hands, and cried.