“What does she look like?”
“Dunno. She's a widder and covers 'erself up. Not but what she 'as gentlemen friends as visits 'er.”
“You seem a sharp boy. Can you tell me how long she's lived here?”
“Maybe a year; off and on that's ter say. I don't recolleck.”
“Is she by herself?”
“There's an old woman in the garden sometimes as looks a 'undred. She wears a white hanky tied round 'er 'ead.”
“I think that's all I want to ask you. Here's something for you. Oh yes, do you happen to know about the trains to London?”
“The last one's gorn, mister, if that's what yer means. It's the one that our gents at the golf-links aims ter catch.”
“Then I'm out of luck. Good evening, sonny, and thank you for your information.”
The bare legs showed no signs of departing; the freckled face still gazed up.