"Really?" says Abe, like one interested.
"You and no other. I don't mind telling 'ee I've been through a fire of temptation. You know why I jumped into that boat: it vexed you a bit, I dare say. And strickly speakin', mind you"—Billy took his friend by the button-hole—"strickly speakin' I'd the right on my side. 'Let the best man win' was our agreement. But you needn' to fret yourself: I ben't the man to take an advantage of an old friend, fair though it be. Man, I ha'n't been to Ardevora—I turned back. So finish your beer and come'st along with me, and we'll walk down to Selina Johns together and ask her which of us she'll choose, fair and square."
Abe set down his mug and looked up, studying the signboard over the door.
"Well," says he, "’tis a real relief to my mind to know you've played so fair. For man and boy, Bill, I always thought it of you."
"Yes, indeed," says Billy, "man and boy, it always was my motto."
"But as consarnin' Selina Johns," Abe went on, "there ain't no such woman."
"You don't tell me she's dead!"
"No; 'tis her first husband that's dead. She's Selina Widlake now."
"How long have 'ee knowed that?"
"Maybe an hour, maybe only three-quarters. Her name's Selina Widlake, and she owns this here public. What's more, her name isn't going to be
