gives up t to me I take it and . tears, rising in my t.

    Boo-, ter, he says, when you was a chair.

    I am sure . t to look at Ric it enougo ricked me? and so coolly  me?

    roking o t you a quieter place, for o sit in?

    A quieter place? so warm  down o come up, dear, now? Make your ? ash your hands?

    I so be so treet, and a , only t.

    ell,  treet from t me take t old bag.— ant to keep it? All rig your grip a strong one! Gentleman, you come along, too, ake your old room, at top?

    I will, .

    t ands close. I soo, and bet menace a so a pen—tcoaircase.  is darker and cooler, and I feel t perreet-door, and sloeps; but I too, of  t call from it, or drop from it—or fling myself from it—sry to  me. taircase is narro; eps, are cer, ing ing shadows.

    Lift your skirts, dear, above the woman, going up before me. Richard comes, very close, behind.

    At top t: t, and s to a small square room. A bed, a ly cross. It is narroogetreet, a ment-coloured sters -s in yellow chalks.

    I stand and study it all, my bag still clutco me, but my arms groairs; t to tand and pours a little er from to take, in coming so quickly to tands betout, and

    puso surprise her.

    Per tand, ilted, but sche same close, eager, half-awed, half-admiring way as before.

    ed soap, sotle and to me,  bared and made   you care, she says, for lavender?

    I epped acart! I dont care, I say, taking anotep, to be tricked. Seps, too.  trickery, darlin