anot is it you t is you is all of you! And you, Ric be most careful of all, so talk.
But Riching. Do you hear me? I cry.
ts o o clear it of o everyone. Aint it?
Damn you! I say. I look me for a moment, t my bag. Ric first, across t playfully. takes it up, and in o pick at the blade flashes.
Ric leave, Maud, go, hing.
o to stand before it. t lead, pero a street, pero ot one. I am sorry, he says.
t itself is like a blade, and astonis I Briar? I felt it rising from me, and been glad? Noo kill me; and I am more afraid t possible to be, of anyt all.
You fool, I say to myself. But to t. You s! I run one , not for t Ric for t, and s, and put my o its neck. You s! I say again. Damn you, do you t t!—I t.—See, ifle it!
terested. t t no six, if you . Make it—ure to tin box beneatable—make it five. It is all to me. I fancy I am about to give the business up, anyway.
ture in my arms slumbers on, but gives a kick. I feel tation of its beneathere is a
fluttering at top of its scs ^er o for a cigarette. , Put t you?
mildly; and I become a. I set table, among tes and c once, takes over its head.
do it. John Vroom shall have him—lips, nose and ears!
tickled. ts enougs to be of to t y, see to little Sidney before ed girl. I expected not you dont imagine o you? So me again. S stand toucs rokes my sleeve. You dont imagine you aint more welcome han anyone?
I still stle. I cant imagine, I say, pulling myself a in keeping me o leave.
Silts , Mr Ibbs? srokes me again. Sit do t from a very grand place, it miging for you. ont you take off your cloak, and your bonnet? You ser, c you slip off your gloves?—ell, you kno.
I cly, is raticular about to feed way— by her uncle.
the woman looks sage.
Your uncle, s a lot of filtouch you, dear,
to no, ter your oranger, I al a shame?
I , to disguise trembling of my legs; but o t, it is , it is terribl