“I’m not going to search you, old lady. I’ll leave that to the revenue men. But what’s the matter?”
“Matter, Master Leslie?”
“Yes; I heard you sobbing. Are you in trouble?”
“Of course I am, sir. Aren’t I a lone widow?”
“So you have been these fifteen years.”
“Fourteen and three-quarters, sir.”
“Ah, well, I was near enough. But what is it, old lady? Want a little money?”
“No, no, no, Master Leslie, sir; and that’s very kind of you, sir; and if I don’t bring you up half-a-dozen of the finest mack’rel that come in these next days, my name aren’t Perrow.”
“Thank you. There, I don’t want to be inquisitive, but it seems strange for a woman like you to be crying away here on the cliff two miles from home on a dark night.”
“And it seems strange for a young gen’leman like you to be up here all alone and three miles from home. You was watching me, Master Leslie.”