“Can I speak to you—not on business, sir?” said she.
“Yes—I suppose.” He looked at her more thoughtfully.
“I am sent to tell you, sir,” she innocently went on, “that a distant relative of yours by marriage, Susan Newson, a sailor’s widow, is in the town, and to ask whether you would wish to see her.”
The rich rouge-et-noir of his countenance underwent a slight change. “Oh—Susan is—still alive?” he asked with difficulty.
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you her daughter?”
“Yes, sir—her only daughter.”
“What—do you call yourself—your Christian name?”
“Elizabeth-Jane, sir.”
“Newson?”