nd ill wake a wo you. hings? ill you?
Yes, sir, I say.
It seems to me no remember too mucs, are set ac of striking looks and poses. I can no longer say ainty it. easing, tening: I c to understand. Perer all. Perorment. It is certainly a torment to me noo sit at a lesson o sit at a dinner-table o read to nig begins to be a torment, too, to pass time ines are spoiled. I am too conscious t ss, as co speak in o tell me, bluntly, eresting.
You t flutter uneasily a s, they?
t—al, — sake doraig lint from t as muco calm
o calm me. tter.—Noer, s mustnt be creased—
It mustnt be creased, for Mr Riverss sake: I ake .
Oh!
I do not knoween my fingers, my own fles an hour.
Ohink me wicked, Sue?
icked? shinking: A simple girl like you?
Ss me into my bed and lies mine; but soon ss edges, its surfaces. I t sleep, unless I touc is cold, but I go quietly from to table, carpet, press. to Sue. I o touco be sure t s. But I cannot leave my an inc, he pillow, her face, as she sleeps.
I do t, pers in a rohis happens.
Rico make us go to t far from me, against turned boat; and my side, pretending to c. I paint t so many times, tarts to rise and crumble beneat I paint on, stubbornly, and o w fiercely:
God damn you, Maud, so calm and steady? bell? ter. t we migead, you keep us here—
ill you move? I say. You are standing in my light.
You are standing in mine, Maud. See is, to remove t stle step is all t must be made. Do you see? ill you look? S. Sing. t piece of— O me find a matc!
I glance at Sue. Be quiet, Richard.
But t last comes a day, so close and airless, t overpo, tilts to sime, ternoon is still and almost pleasant: ter, ts. I dra across trokes, and almost fall into slumber.
turn to look at s o ly. And ures to Sue.
Sill sits before turned boat, but tten ip it, curves to te asleep. ts against of are trips of pinking flesh.
I look