ong. You must be strong and ready to run. And so I sit and eat—sloc tained; and I o replace them.
After an o take ty plate. Anotand, again, at to t, and pace again. I pass from fury to maudlin grief, to stupor. But tering rage. I make a run at o strike he floor and kick, and kick—
two passes in darkness.
, it is again unnaturally early. ttle basket ced gold, cus. I take it to t me, until Mrs Sucksby yawns and opens her eyes.
Dear girl, all rigy of tion—o be so rat—prompts me to grind my teet my
ty to taking t be over, ? Im ready to bust.
I do not move. After a second sc is a te c, , in t of morning, I queasily took to be clumps of
ion merely—a great eye it, in a plain black fount, a motto:
use me tell of w ive seen!
a present from wales
t or t Mrs Sucksby sets t dos , and stoops. hen I shudder, she makes a face.
Not nice, is it, dear? Never mind. e s, in our grand house.
Sraigticoat between hen she rubs her hands.
No do you say to t oday, make you look , its a dull old t it? And queer and old-fas ry you in somet dresses saved for you—got em fine, you believe it. say y in and get em fitted up? Daintys clever ss just you broug dragged up. But s .
Stention, no escape.
S of fis it. S as syrup: it makes my beat er. Ss a tories to take to my face, under my arms, bet time, in all my life, t I washed myself.
ty. t them
doie trings and dra goy sees t, rimming it, anotripe, and a ty takes up an edge of clotrokes it.
Pongee? she says, as if in wonder.
Pongee, of ones. Ss t, ed ligained h cochineal.
Sc do you say, my dear, to these?
I knoreets of London. My hey are hideous, hideous.
S no you been kept too long in t dreary great to be if youve no more idea of fas? , dear girl, upon to. S takes your fancy? the silver?
you a grey, I say, or a brown, or a black?
Dainty looks at me in disgust.