f t of my natural s I longed for o feel a longing so great, so s  , and mount, and make me mad, or kill me. Yet ill. S you are! — to press. I catc makes ate, and t last she

    giving of my fles. S ate noo me and puts  my t s , so a rime, a quickening beat. Sc of me: soon I seem to be no ts at tering, bursting out of o . her voice is broken. You pearl.

    I dont knoress . Ss back t. t is still deep, till black. Our breatill come fast, our s beat loud—faster, and louder, to me, in th echoes of our voices, our whispers and cries.

    I cannot see  after a moment s, akes it to  and s speak. S is rising from . I reac up again, and lay it gently about her.

    Everyto myself, is couc back my flesill feel ill feel ing my gaze. I tell ;I meant to c you. I cannot c you no. e can make it ours.quot;—e can make it ours, I t up entirely. I need only escape from Briar: she can

    —s o London, find money for ourselves . . .

    So I calculate and plan, s , oget move a er. I rise up from my pillo: s, still , from the pressing of her hand.

    You pearl, she said.

    ts my gaze. My  leaps hin me.

    She looks away.

    I t first. I tly about taking out my petticoats and goand, so s, s. And  by  seems to me t so groc seems queer in reflection, crooked and o my  keeps ime on ain hink, She is ashamed.

    So then, I speak.

    a tly. Didnt I?

    ter. You did, she answers. No dreams.

    No dreams, save one, I say. But t  one. I t, Sue . . .