“And who might you be?” asked the keeper, with a new intonation.
“John Adderley Syson; I used to live in Cordy Lane.”
“Used to court Hilda Millership?”
Syson’s eyes opened with a pained smile. He nodded. There was an awkward silence.
“And you—who are you?” asked Syson.
“Arthur Pilbeam—Naylor’s my uncle,” said the other.
“You live here in Nuttall?”
“I’m lodgin’ at my uncle’s—at Naylor’s.”
“I see!”
“Did you say you was goin’ down to Willey-Water?” asked the keeper.