and—
My voice broke off. Sc of times I o t of o gentlemen—to Gentleman—ing tarts and custards iles and Mr ay. I put my o my . It ig me.
Oo to cry. to to my mout t ill it and let it drop as if it burned me. Oh!
It ood very still, the smears of ink on her fingers.
?
S answer.
to t sod! Oinking oo good for o look at you and see you ill you—!
I gazed across ted to smas to o dra any otime I should have called proud.
Dont pity me, s I am still my living.
S I e on. till damp. I asked a friend of my uncles, once, s e for me to a ressed gentle e suc, I am not a lady
I looked at understanding. I looked at t missed its beat.
You are ing books, like speaking. kno! I said. I cant believe it. Of all t Id find you— And to find you house—
I am not alone, sold you: I o care for me.
to find you ing books like t?-V
Again, s proud. I? she said.
I did not kno just dont seem right, I said. A girl, like you—
Like me? there are no girls like me.
I did not ans. I looked again at tly,
Is t?
Stle, se sly.
And you— You like it?
Sill it. . . S ill ce me for it? she said.
e you! I said. y proper reasons for ing you, already; and only—
Only love you, I ed to say. I didnt say it, t can I tell you? If sill be proud, t need to say it, anyill couldnt bear it. I quickly reacopped ; t my to rub at t, te skin; but s my ill. My t moved to like a pearl, urned my palm. . tayed black upon er all, I t, was only ink.
it o make o soo. I I mig! e moved apart. S . Sill fluttered to tooped and caug up and smoot.
does it say? I said, when I had.
S is filled you . . . Look.
Sook up t darker, till beat against t so t, and sat beside me. s rose in a rus t; and began to sten, one by one.
Notes
Many books provided orical detail and inspiration. Im particularly indebted to V.A.C. Gatrells tree: Execut