nd away, however. Perhaps.

    You think so?

    be.

    I study ruck h a new idea.

    S if he was?

    Like it, miss?

    Like it, Agnes. It seems to me no you en at turn te private.

    O nonsense!

    Is it? urn your  like it, having a prick upon your palm!

    Sakes , and begins to cry. t of ears—and of  of tender fles I abbed—first stirs, troubles me; tand at my rattling  dips to thames.

    ill you be quiet? I say, c you! tears, for a gentleman! Dont you kno  be  you knohey never are?

    But of course, h.

    Mr Rico me. Later I  to be false—as false as  noand in to make me o doubt ures, even teetaller t a foot. , but is long: a curl springs from its place and tumbles across s a o it, repeatedly.  for a single finger, stained yelloe we.

    Miss Lilly, oained s to brus back.  ioned in advance, by Mr rey.

    Mr rey is a London bookseller and publisher, and has been

    many times to Briar. akes my . Beleman collector, a friend from my uncles youtakes my  takes it to drao hen kisses my cheek. Dear child, he says.

    I imes surprised by Mr airs. o stand and chem.

    sey.

    But it is Mr Rivers I cell. But, o be o table, I see ate; t to mine. I inue to c like to be cing. Mr ay and Cly about us, filling our glasses—mine, t crystal cup, cut  upon our plates, ts leave: tay urn bet Briar , as lemen lasts one hour and a half.

    e are served ; t t ts innards devilled and passed about table. Mr rey takes a dainty kid