and keep me company. S of all my old pals, , before—t I  came out t I aken t room, in t seemed a sneaking sort of  a  of talked about my mot flo say I

    ter all; and Mrs Sucksby— bad—aken the blame . . .

    in tone at me.

    At any otime it  care. I , and t o see Mrs Sucksby as often as I could. t all my days tting on tep outside te, oo early to be let in; talking o plead . Some pal of Mr Ibbss o  sort of villains from t old me, ly, t our case  he sake of her age.

    More t could be proved s?

    ted to it. ?

    I did not kno anse of tepping into treet and calling out for a cab-man; and Id c my , and ttle of  of people, tones beneat, er t ougo  times I op, and remember Gentleman, gripping tomac our oo say it, noo everyone I sach me . . .?

    I en letters; if I o e, and o. I o be judge; if I o find it. But I did not.  little comfort I got, I got at Mrs Sucksbys side; and t  least . I got to spend more time t to  me younger and less of a ser, te to Mrs Sucksbys cell; and every time, s udy my face, or glance beyond my sroubled look—as if, I t, not quite believing t me come again and meant to let me stay.

    try at a smile. Dear girl. Quite alone?

    Quite alone, Id answer.

    ts good, ser.a moment, taking my  it? Just you and me. ts good.

    So sit  like to talk.  first Id ake back ory, my  her I feared shed grow ill.

    No more, s about t, ts all. I dont  to  it.

    So t dander of , and only smooto groime I saw  e

    untou