objected to washing their cunts
directly after a poke, I think they rarely wash it until requested.
There must be some sweet tranquillizing pleasure which a man's sperm
gives to a woman's cunt, and makes her undesirous of washing it out. It
is only when a woman knows it is good for her health if she be gay, that
she ever does it. No married woman washes the sperm out of her cunt, yet
in the morning after a night's fucking you never find the sperm if you
feel in the cunt for it,--where does it go?--it is absorbed I suppose.

We lay thus and talked. "How old are you really?" "Fifteen and two
months, as I told yer,--I always was fat, but ain't so fat as I was
though,--father used to say I should get fat on gruel." I should have
guessed her full sixteen had it not been for the little hair there was
on her motte, and the delicate pink small cut, and tight prick-hole.
"How long have you been gay?" "I ain't gay," said she astonished. "Yes
you are." "No I ain't." "You let men fuck you, don't you?" "Yes, but I
ain't gay." "What do you call gay?" "Why the gals who come out regular
of a night dressed up, and gets their livings by it." I was amused.

"Don't you?" "No, mother keeps me." "What is your father?" "Got none,
he's dead three months back,--mother works, and keeps us.--she is a
charwoman, and goes out on odd jobs." "Don't you work?" "Not now," said
she in a confused way, "mother does not want me to, I takes care of the
others." "What others?" "The young ones." "How many?" "Two,--one's a
boy, and one's a gal." "How old?" "Sister's about six, and brother's
nearly eight,--but what do you ask me all this for?" "Only for
amusement,--then you are in mourning for your father?" "Yes, it's
shabby, ain't it?--I wish I could have nice clothes, I've got nice
boots,--ain't they?"--cocking up one leg, "a lady gived em me when
father died,--they are my best."

"Are you often in the Strand?" "When I gets out I likes walking in it,
and looking at the shops,--I do if mother's out for the day." "Does she
know you are out?" The girl who had been lying on her back with her
head full towards me, turned on her side, and giggling said in a sort of
confidential way, "Bless you no,--she'd beat me if she knew,--when
she be out I locks them up, and takes the key, and then I goes back
to them,--I've got the key in my pocket, and shall be home before
mother,--she is out for the whole day."

"Do the children know you're out?" "No, I says to them, 'You