you smotorment me, er my ?

    I  takes t of my strengt speak. Scs, until I ill. turns ilts it. I t she is smiling.

    ts are gone! Aint it? Surns back to me. I ell you, dear girl, sly, t I once bore an infant of my o died? Round about time t t lady, Sues mot told, round  queer . . .?

    to o s, and reaco stroke my tangled e safe, noroking stops. S up a lock of  tone, about your e, and your  and hands I knew would be

    slender. Only your  rat pictured

    t from treet-lamp, and from tarnis once I see  is plump and must, I understand suddenly, must once s h. Dear girl, she says. My own, my own dear girl—

    Sates anot; t last.