still curned—soon one  in a lock, I kno. I am cy and Jooo used to me. turn careless, t. Soon, I think. Soon, Maud.

    So I til this happens.

    Ricakes to leaving t saying o y streets, or to sit in t and tcifles  stifles me. One day,  returns in an , for once: Mr Ibbs and Jo, and Dainty is sleeping in a cs o tc and kisses her cheek. his face is flushed and his eyes are gleaming.

    ell, hink? he says.

    Dear boy, I cant imagine!  once?

    Better t,  do you t of t look so fierce! Save t, till youve  concerns you, rather.

    o o table. I sting, the shape of my life.

    Youll see. Look s o coat pocket and dra. A paper. .

    A bond, dear boy? says Mrs Sucksby, stepping to his side.

    A letter,  you play? S is someone you know. A friend, very dear.

    My  gives a lurc once. But s.

    Not  Dainty;  guess?

    I turn my face. o tell me, dont you?

    s anot; t ed. You are interested!

    Let me see, I say. Perer all.

    Noer  , not yours.

    Let me see!

    I rise, pull down hen push him away.

    ts not my uncles ed, I could strike him.

    I never said it ers from  sent by anoteward, Mr ay.

    Mr ay?

    More curious still, and t, o me. Read t. Its a postscript; and explains, at least— so queer—will now . . .

    tilt to catc lighen read.

    Dear Sir.—I found today among my masters private papers, tter, amp; do suppose  it to be sent; only, o a grave indisposition sly after e it, sir, o tiles am