s t my s. I lie—still tcime to time, in ch me.

    Presently, tle nearer. Noly, are you better, darling? I do not ans o go, and let her sleep?

    Sleep be damned, ill believe s aps my face. Open your eyes, he says.

    I say, I aken them from me.

    c s better. Notle more

    for you to kno a little more, and ten to me. Listen! Dont ask me,  to, I s t. Do you feel trikes me. Very good.

    t so  mig ried to c.

    Gentleman! s. No call at all. emper, cant you? I believe youve bruised her. Oh, dear girl.

    Soo be grateful, raigting back  I  done ime in t t to kno again, and count it not Briar, a sort of gentleman. I make a ry, and?

    I lie, nursing my cakes tte from bes it to ch.

    Go on, Mrs Sucksby, . tell t. As for you, Maud: listen  last w your life was lived for.

    My life  lived, I say in a  ion.

    ell—crikes it—fictions must end. o.

    It  ious. My  not so t I cannot, noo be fearful of ell me next, o keep me, o keep me for ...

    Mrs Sucksby sees me groful, and nods. Noart to get it, sarting to see. I got ts better, I got t it? Souctle closer. Like to see it? s sort of voice. Like to see the ladys word?

    Ss. I do not ans s Ricurns o tons of affeta rustles. -o me, into —and t a folded paper. Kept t to me, all t than gold! Look, here.

    tter, and bears a tilting instruction: to Be Opened on teenter, Susan Lilly.—I see t name, and s s jealously and, like my uncle—not my uncle, noique book,  let me take it;