smoke, and smoke from tting candles, already drifts from wall
to ly gleam, as if painted ures—of csmen, raits—of Mr Ced to a board of cork; and are muc-holes.
If I , I t ten t, make Mrs Sucksby give up tle. If I had a knife.
Rics te, narroty dress, trimmings, and I ut, tut, emper not muc you en up in confinement. As apples do. And veal-calves.
Go to hell, will you? I say.
t, s, sounds a, sounds almost s. Still, dear—able, drops nt speak so nasty.
I o me, do you?
Ster and she looks away.
I drink my coffee, t speak again. Mrs Sucksby sits, softly beating able-top, ogeto a froy s to steam and stink. I close my eyes. My stomachink again. Or an axe . . .
But tiflingly , and I am so aurned. Mrs Sucksby is feeding babies, and Dainty is cooking a supper. Bacon, cabbage, crumbling pota-
toes and bread: te and, miserably picking free trips of fat from ts from ts of fis it. t out glasses. Care for some tipple, Miss Lilly? Mrs Sucksby says. A stout, or a
sherry?
A gin? says Richard, some look of mischief in his eye.
I take a gin. taste of it is bitter to me, but triking t stirs, brings a vague and nameless comfort.
So t day passes. So pass t folloo bed— am undressed, every time, by Mrs Sucksby, ticoats and locks t in ttle gold cails of my confinement, my plan of escape. For I must escape. I o Sue. are took remember. kno. First, to Briar, beg money from my uncle—ill believe s! Ill beg from Mrs Stiles! Or, Ill steal! Ill steal a book from t book, and sell it—!
Or, no, I do t.—For t of returning to Briar makes me s occurs to me in time t I er all. I rey. Mr o see me climb a staircase. Could I go to myself in e enougrey, ed me to o reet.—I treet cannot be far—can it? I do not kno I s trey will rey will help me find Sue . . .
So my ts run, w me; wers, wer screams,
wleman cougurns in hers, and snores, and sighs.
If only t keep me so close! One day, I