e, do you?

    Ster and she looks away.

    I drink my coffee, t speak again. Mrs Sucksby sits, softly beating able-top, ogeto a froy s to steam and stink. I close my eyes. My stomachink again. Or an axe . . .

    But tiflingly , and I am so  aurned. Mrs Sucksby is feeding babies, and Dainty is cooking a supper. Bacon, cabbage, crumbling pota-

    toes and bread: te and, miserably picking free trips of fat from ts from ts of fis it. t out glasses. Care for some tipple, Miss Lilly? Mrs Sucksby says. A stout, or a

    sherry?

    A gin? says Richard, some look of mischief in his eye.

    I take a gin. taste of it is bitter to me, but triking t stirs, brings a vague and nameless comfort.

    So t day passes. So pass t folloo bed— am undressed, every time, by Mrs Sucksby, ticoats and locks t in ttle gold cails of my confinement,  my plan of escape. For I must escape. I o Sue.  are took  remember.  kno. First, to Briar, beg money from my uncle—ill believe s! Ill beg from Mrs Stiles! Or, Ill steal! Ill steal a book from t book, and sell it—!

    Or, no, I  do t.—For t of returning to Briar makes me s occurs to me in time t I er all. I rey. Mr o see me climb a staircase. Could I go to  myself in e enougrey, ed me to o reet.—I treet cannot be far—can it? I do not kno I s trey will rey will help me find Sue . . .

    So my ts run, w me; wers, wer screams,

    wleman cougurns in hers, and snores, and sighs.

    If only t keep me so close! One day, I