'Whew!' said I, knowing something of London, and sorry for Benita's chance.
'So the poor thing was compelled to drop all thought of Apulia, and settle down on the brink of Exmoor, where you get all its evils, without the good to balance them. She married a man who turned a wheel for making the blue Watchett ware, partly because he could give her a house, and partly because he proved himself a good soul towards my Lady. There they are, and have three children; and there you may go and visit them.'
'I understand all that, Jeremy, though you do tell things too quickly, and I would rather have John Fry's style; for he leaves one time for his words to melt. Now for my second question. What became of the little maid?'
'You great oaf!' cried Jeremy Stickles: 'you are rather more likely to know, I should think, than any one else in all the kingdoms.'
'If I knew, I should not ask you. Jeremy Stickles, do try to be neither conceited nor thick-headed.'
'I will when you are neither,' answered Master Jeremy; 'but you occupy all the room, John. No one else can get in with you there.'
'Very well then, let me out. Take me down in both ways.'
'If ever you were taken down; you must have your double joints ready now. And yet in other ways you will be as proud and set up as Lucifer. As certain sure as I stand here, that little maid is Lorna Doone.'