"Well, Peter?"
"And—ask her to marry him, George?" This time he was silent so long that I had tied my neckerchief and drawn on my coat ere he spoke, very heavily and slowly, and without looking at me.
"Why, then, Peter, let 'im. I've told 'ee afore, I don't care wheer she comes nor wheer she goes, she bean't nothin' to me no more, nor I to she. If so be some man 'as a mind to ax 'er for 'isself, all open an' aboveboard, I say again—let 'im. And now, let's talk o' summat else."
"Willingly. There's to be boxing, and single-stick, and wrestling at the Fair, I understand."
"Ay."
"And, they tell me, there is a famous wrestler coming all the way from
Cornwall to wrestle the best man for ten guineas."
"Ay, so there be."
"Well?"
"Well, Peter?"
"They were talking about it at 'The Bull' last night—"