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, darling?
Do you t to come o stay?
I tartled. I t quite yourself. Not quite myself? s myself to you? o say or mig be?
At t, , returns to tand, toucoairs, a cairs, Ricters. If I am to run, I must do it notom, t t? I am not sure. Never mind, I t I do not. ts cate; and in t of t ation Riceps airs. o tte beo er.
. take your cloak off, Maud, o strangle me.
t keep my cloak quite fastened, and move backhe window. I will
as . I reet. Ricches me and sighs. he makes his