is is c .—C! s retcired I am! a days o a mad s? er? t may come later, I suppose. No matter if it does. Sues birthday
falls at tart of August. e o persuade you into our plot. I t.
I am gazing at cannot speak. I am till, of Sue. ilts say . her, he adds, would have been sorry, also.
My motart to say.—I tc, I t of tcs o retc, and coug deliberate kind of way.
Noleman, says Mrs Sucksby anxiously as , dont tease her.
tease ill pulls at c t, from talking.
You oo mucs it?—Miss Lilly, dont mind y of time for talking of t.
Of my motrue mot you made out to be Sues. t c choked, on a pin.
On a pin! says Ric? Mrs Sucksby bites o them.
in me, noo be astonis hief I suppose will do . . .
Ric, grave. Gentleman, s got noto tell Miss Lilly, noo say to a girl in private.
o hem.
Ss, but leave. Ss beside me; again, I flinch away.
Dear girl, s of it is, t a pleasant o tell it; and I ougo kno once already, to Sue. Your mots Richard.
tell her, he says. Or I will.
So took before ts, not just for t for killing a man; and—o!
hanged?
A murderess, Maud, says Riche window of my room—
Gentleman, I mean it!
. I say again, hanged!
ever it means, better. tudies my face. Dear girl, dont t, s does it matter no you? rouble you here.
Ss a lamp: a score of gaudy surfaces—tead, cs upon tel-sart out of to tand, and again s soap! Got from a s. Come in a year ago—I sa come and t, quot;No!quot; Kept it ime. And o a nap like a peac! Dont care for lavender, you one of rose. Are you looking, dear? So t of dra draicoats, and stockings, and stays! Bless me, al drops— one pair of blue, one red. t comes of my not knoo matcy she blue pair . . .
Scals turn. to blur. I o weep.
As if weeping could save me.
Mrs Sucksby sees me, and tuts. O t a sleman, you see ?
Crying, I say bitterly, unsteadily, to find myself o t the closeness and foulne