ours.
Let me see!
I rise, pull down hen push him away.
ts not my uncles ed, I could strike him.
I never said it ers from sent by anoteward, Mr ay.
Mr ay?
More curious still, and t, o me. Read t. Its a postscript; and explains, at least— so queer—will now . . .
tilt to catc lighen read.
Dear Sir.—I found today among my masters private papers, tter, amp; do suppose it to be sent; only, o a grave indisposition sly after e it, sir, o tiles amp; me did t first, t to notice, sir, t to onis deed; as, begging leave again sir, no more fully, sir, and presume to finds you cin ay, Steward of Briar.
I look up, but say not, urn tter is s, and dated 3rd of May—seven says this.
to Mr Ricopaken my niece, Maud Lilly. I , and sincts, if not o t I take comfort in my loss, from t I fancy you, sir, a man ing of a whore.—C.L.
I read it, times; t again; t it fall. Mrs Sucksby instantly takes it up, to read he words, she grows flushed. hen she has finished, she gives a cry:
t blackguard! Oh!
y. ho, Mrs Sucksby? ho? she says.
A s all. A o be. No-one you knoo sleep. She reaches for me. Oh, my dear—
Leave me alone, I say.
tter me, more than I should have believed. I
dont kno is t ; or to give, to Mrs Sucksbys story. But I cannot bear to be cir. I eps-— to tco anoto a door; and I seize and vainly turn the handle.
Let me out, I say.
Mrs Sucksby comes to me. So reac for t for my face. I puso t me out! Let me out! She follows.
Dear girl, s let yourself be upset by t old villain. ears!
ill you let me out?
Let you out, to you need no everythem gowns—
Sep back to t my o it—a fist—and beat and beat it. ts pages sc, and pluck it from its pin. Dear girl— Mrs Sucksby says again. I turn and t at her.
But afterears ter aken it from me. t it stay t groeadily blacker, as es. to be filled o a fury: ing.—You knolemans son? , to look a