Sc mine, t kisses, t to c  c   good. But I migo try to be. t. e can make it ours—

    In your dream? s last, moving from me. I dont t me. I ste almost smoked. You  t.

    I sit dazed for a moment, as if struck by o tcte, put back tumbling  I keep at ter  to my uncle. I  anyoo plump, too pink—plumper and pinker toucarting ailes, grinding lavender soap against my tongue, then wiping and wiping her hands upon her apron.

    Everyt all. S back my fles fleso my drac, cover up , but s look—I tly at me, again. I meant to save  o my uncle, to to Mrs Stiles, to some nees, t  up; of tes and days t stretcill to be lived. I t Ric money,  London,  liberty. it Sue.

    And so you see it is love—not scorn, not malice; only love—t makes me he end.