Chapter Twelve
there comes a kind of chaos.
ts blanket gives a cry; anot I noticed—it lies in a tin box, beneatable—begins to cry also. Ricakes off and , sets doretc hin.
It aint Sue, he says.
Miss Lilly, says tly. Aint you just tired, dear? You e a journey
It aint Sue, says ttle louder.
C catcays °n beo take care of a fe points.—Mr Ibbs, how are you, sir?
S, son, taken off ing to us has
gone. ttle brazier is cooling and ticking and grotle and a spoon, but is still stealing looks at me.
t get it. You will, answers Rics h, and winks.
till before me, still describing my face elling off my features as if tring. Broers. Nice and dainty at teete as c, I dare say? Oh!
I ood, as if in a trance, and let ter against my face, I start away from her.
o me? me, any of you? And you— I go to Riccoat. is t me to? do they know of Sue, here?
he woman looks rueful.
Got a voice, dont she girl.
Like t clean.
Rics my gaze, t can I say? he shrugs. I am a villain.
Damn your attitudes noell me yours?
Is it .
Jo, or Ill t mind !
I can feel do not look at ell me, I say.
Not mine, last.
Not ours? hen?
ired. It is to the Borough.
tand for a moment in silence, thinking back across his
drops. Sues hieves.
to t know us!
I t! I spit at cc. It seems darker, too, and close. I still coat. ries to pull a as me o be rid of me. o keep