ssion, ears from my cheek.

    s. o ts o my o eitilts it back until our gazes meet. Look at me, ell me, ly, t you dont admire me.

    I e you.

    e yourself, t to love us, for ts? t does! t to be got from love; from scorn,  ricer may be  is true. You are like me. I say it again: e me, e yourself.

    least. I close my eyes.

    I say, I do.

    to knock upon our door.  calls for o enter.

    Look e c your mistress. Dont you ttle brig day, for the madhouse.

    So dress me, for time.

    t on or draill, t Briar, t is spotted er. S  is turned to t taking up my linen, my sting tined for London, t, as s is o co see ticoat, a pair of stockings or so kno to take, in case ts are cool. No and ttle of drops, my gloves) s her bag.

    And one ot  s kno Briar, ed tooth.

    t . oo tall for tilting ep outside, retc to my room so long,  to me. I  t give it up—give it up, for ever!—I tate.

    Noiment.

    t, as more tter of galloping urning  journey, iles, from to Briar: I put my face to the window

    as t expect to see tcill, I kno. But, t er. It ics, only. t  in bare earts door—tall floips like spikes.

    I fall back in my seat. Ricches my eye.

    Dont be afraid, he says.

    take o tands before me at t.

    ait, I  are you doing? tlemen! Gentlemen!—an odd and formal phrase.

    tors speak in sootones, until so curse; tilts, tilted, earing from its pins. e. her look is wild, already.

    like a stone, until Ricakes my arm a