y. hy

    your motune, surned out tras live to keep your fingers smooto a lady, is a puzzle. eep all tful tears you like. You s ter.

    Scakes me to to t, y bed, ts doains. t: sells me it leads to anotempered girl sleeps ten in t, and if I am anyt still and good and quiet, she will hear; and her hand is very hard.

    Say your prayers, so forgive you.

    takes up the lamp and leaves, and I am plunged in an awful darkness.

    I t a terrible to do to a c terrible, even noraining my ears against ting black of my oer. My corset . My knuckles, tugged into tiff skin gloves, are starting out in bruises. No clock ss its gears, and c comfort I can from my idea t someco s of tics licence to aking it for anotempered girl t sleeps next door is ed, and tle me o , close by—unnaturally close, to me to be: I imagine a t tain, a to cry. t I ears come strangely. I long to lie still, so t guess t I am t tiller I try to be, tcly, a spider or a mottling  last, and jerk in a convulsion and, I suppose, shriek.

    t bethe

    seams of tain. A face appears, close to my o tic, but t of t my little tea of biscuits and s wine. Sgown, and  down.

    Noly.  s it to my rokes my face, and I groears flourally I say I ics, and she laughs.

    tics  ot you glad, to  t is only strange for you o it.

    Sakes up . I see , and begin at once again to cry.—! she says.

    I say I do not like tened to lie alone. Sates, tiles. But I dare say my bed is softer t is er, and fearfully