prompts me to grind my teet my

    ty to taking t be over, ? Im ready to bust.

    I do not move. After a second sc  is a te c, , in t of morning, I queasily took to be clumps of

    ion merely—a great eye  it, in a plain black fount, a motto:

    use me  tell of w ive seen!

    a present from wales

    t or t Mrs Sucksby sets t dos , and stoops. hen I shudder, she makes a face.

    Not nice, is it, dear? Never mind. e s, in our grand house.

    Sraigticoat between hen she rubs her hands.

    No do you say to t oday, make you look , its a dull old t it? And queer and old-fas ry you in somet dresses saved for you—got em  fine, you  believe it.  say y in and get em fitted up? Daintys clever  ss just  you  broug dragged up. But s .

    Stention, no escape.

    S of fis it. S as syrup: it makes my  beat  er. Ss a tories to   take to my face, under my arms, bet time, in all my life, t I washed myself.

    ty. t them

    doie trings and dra goy sees t, rimming it, anotripe, and a ty takes up an edge of clotrokes it.

    Pongee? she says, as if in wonder.

    Pongee,  of ones. Ss t, ed ligained h cochineal.

    Sc do you say, my dear, to these?

    I  knoreets of London. My  hey are hideous, hideous.

    S no you been kept too long in t dreary great  to be  if youve no more idea of fas? , dear girl, upon to. S takes your fancy? the silver?

    you a grey, I say, or a brown, or a black?

    Dainty looks at me in disgust.