and fair—darkest of all. t troubles me. t last, one day, sc are you looking at? s, I anss as . her cheek flares crimson. Oh! she cries. I never did! here did you learn such words? From my uncle, I say.

    Oleman. Ill tell Mrs Stiles! Siles ead, like Barbara, sarts back. But takes up a block of soap and, while

    Barbara o my mout  back and fortongue.

    Speak like a devil,  and a filt? Like your orasher? ill you? ill

    you?

    ts me fall, and stands and  out a light.

    t least, I  may keep ;

    I ongue gro still taste lavender. I t , after all.

    But soon, I do not care. My cunt groand my uncles books to be filled rut c quite fades from my limbs. tlessness turns all to scorn. I become o be. I become a librarian.

    tful turk, my uncle mig?

    e   index—o Priapus and Venus ed me, as oticed to the loom.

    I knoill e. I knoors, auctioneers— ents of ters:

    quot;Mr Lilly: on t of Paris claims no kno, sodomitical matter. S;

    My uncle heir lenses.

    t no leave to languis me see . . . ival of till trey? You must copy it, Maud ...quot;

    I will, I say.

    You t myself, and yaudies me. aken s nib.

    It appears you find your occupation dull,  last. Pero return to your room. I say not?

    Perer a moment.

    Per back your book t, Maud— t, as I cross to truct Mrs Stiles to keep t suppose I so keep you warm in idleness, hmm?

    I ate, ter—it seems aler t  until made to dress for dinner. But at table,