r fear solitude, Maud, while you are rich.

    You tude? I say. e are close to t is ? I fear nothing.

    s takes up my arm. hen, he says, do you keep us here, in such dreadful suspense?

    I do not ansone has changed.

    You spoke, a moment ago, of torment. truto torment yourself, by prolonging time.

    I s feel careless. My uncle said someto me once, I say. t  to me noo . I am used to it.

    I am not, o take instruction in t, from you or anyone. I  too muc, ting. I am cleverer no manipulating events to matc is and me, Maud?

    I turn my   to understand you, I say tiredly. I  all.

    I il you hear.

    ?

    o my face. ainted ract. Remember . Remember t  I came, not quite as a gentleman, and tle to lose—unlike you, Miss Lilly, ion must count for somet ladies al naturally you kne, when you received me.

    one o it, some quality I   we   is all beo read.

    I say carefully, You call me a lady; but I am .

    And yet, I t consider you one. ill o ted?

    ed me himself!

    to taken over by anot o be the case.

    I move aand irely.  of engine, for texts.

    All t like it, w say  and makes her?

    No of t my fingers to my eyes. Dont be tiresome, Ric, how?

    home . . .

    t seems to stumble, t again t is be quite make out ly, I so you, in a madhouse.

    You are no use to me noired of t be kind to you, then.

    And is this kindness? I say.

    e  last, into s is , amused, amazed.  anything else?