ked  Dr Cies, and till. Dainty said I  so ston, you could h me.

    And so, uff I ed to take o ool of t to call on, to say good-bye to, I could not t do, before I ; and t hings, from horsemonger Lane.

    I took Dainty  t I could bear it all alone. e , one day in September—more ter trial. London urned, and t last. treets  and stra ter t me t me, I t, in pity. So did trons. tied rings. Released, to Dauge in a book; and t my name te my name quick as anyone noime at Dr Cies . . . tone upon her grave, so no-one could come and mourn her; and

    took me out under te, s lo roof,  roof every day of t o to say goodbye, to take my  give it.

    t. I carried it  of dread; and to make it ime I reac Street, I  staggering: I  quickly  to tcable, and set it do and look at all  of  be inside: ockings, perill in toes and ticoats; — Dont do it! I t. Leave it! ! Open it some otime, not today, not now—.

    I sat, and looked at Dainty.

    Dainty, I said, I dont think I can.

    S her hand over mine.

    I t to, ser  our mots back from t t packet in a dra look at it for nearly a year; and ted t peris to noter on to remember Mot all; save a little che end, for gin-money . . .

    I sa face ears.

    All rig. Ill do it.

    My ill so me and tried to undo its strings, I found trons ied too tigy tried. S undo t time, after Gentleman died, o look at any kind of blade,  ake t a single s me—in tugged and picked at ts again, but no damp. At last,

    I lifted to my m