“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.”
“You’ll take my word, Poll Perrow,” said Leslie quietly. “I did not know you were here.”
“Yes, I’ll believe you, Master Leslie, sir. But you was watching someone else?”