“How, Betty?” he whispered.
“You should ’a slept it off,” she said, “before you took the road.”
“You think me tipsy?”
She answered with a little sigh.
“Betty, my dear”—the mere effort of speech wrung a moan from him—“I’m not tipsy, upon my honour. I was fool enough to trust Mr. Breeds, that’s all; and he repaid me by drugging my wine.”
“You come fro’ the ‘Dog and Duck’?”
“I’ve spent the night there in a chair.”
“Oh, Mr. Tuke! What made you go?”
“Why, I wanted to see for myself.”
She went quite pale; and suddenly there was a bright tear running down her cheek.