r grave, so no-one could come and mourn her; and
took me out under te, s lo roof, roof every day of t o to say goodbye, to take my give it.
t. I carried it of dread; and to make it ime I reac Street, I staggering: I quickly to tcable, and set it do and look at all of be inside: ockings, perill in toes and ticoats; — Dont do it! I t. Leave it! ! Open it some otime, not today, not now—.
I sat, and looked at Dainty.
Dainty, I said, I dont think I can.
S her hand over mine.
I t to, ser our mots back from t t packet in a dra look at it for nearly a year; and ted t peris to noter on to remember Mot all; save a little che end, for gin-money . . .
I sa face ears.
All rig. Ill do it.
My ill so me and tried to undo its strings, I found trons ied too tigy tried. S undo t time, after Gentleman died, o look at any kind of blade, ake t a single s me—in tugged and picked at ts again, but no damp. At last,
I lifted to my moutook s eetrings unravelled and t of its folds. I started back. Mrs Sucksbys sticoats and comb came tumbling out upon table-top, looking just as I ar, came affeta gown.
I t of t. I? It t looked like Mrs Sucksby of sill o its breast. Someone —I didnt care about t—but t
poaffeta itself iff. t rusty. t raced about e: t, and ain h chalk.
to me like marks on Mrs Sucksbys own body.
Oy, I said, I cant bear it! Fetcer, o rub. Dainty rubbed, too. e rubbed in t t. t up to me and began to .
And, as I did, tling, sound.
Dainty put do? s knohe sound came again.
Is it a moty. Is it flapping about, inside?
I s t sounds like a paper. Perrons somethere
But , and looked inside, t all. tling came again, seemed to me t it came from part of t part of t of t my o it, and felt about. taffeta tiff—stiff not just from taining of Gentlemans blood, but from somet
stuck, or been put, be, bet and tin lining of t ? I could not tell, from