no man ain't ever done it to her, she's such a
_foule_,--but she would a come in to-day with you, she said she would,
and she were just a comin when you sent her off,--she promised me, she'd
let yer if you wanted,--but she is a foule though."

"I don't believe that." "It's God's truth though, she ain't, she says
she ain't; she knows what men want gals for, but she's never let any
one,--I know she ain't, she is frightened." "Have you looked at her
cunt?" "Often," said Kitty. "And she's looked at yours?" "Of course she
has,--she lives over us I tell you, I go up to her, and she comes down
to me when mother's out,--I wash her." "You seem fond of washing." "I
likes things clean." I thought for an instant, "It may be true, I should
like to see her cunt if she's never been poked,--what object has this
little lass in pressing this so?" Then said I, "Tell me the truth, and
I'll give you another shilling,--don't lie,--I shall soon tell whether
you're lying or not," and getting up, "here is three and six (I had it
on the mantle-piece), here's a shilling for her, and there is another.
If you answer truly, I'll see you again; but I'll never see you again if
I find you are making up lies,--come here." And I sat down.

She came forward, I pulled her between my naked legs, her naked thighs
met mine, her little cunt was close to my prick, I put my hand round her
fat little bum, and looked her in the face, pressing her belly close to
mine.

"What do you want me to have her for?" "Only cos she's so poor,--why
she only gets sixpence a day,--she works at sack-making,--oh! isn't it
hard!--and her hands if you seed em, are hard and brown, stained with
the string, and what the works with,--mother wants me to work at them at
home, but I won't--I tells her I'd run away first,--she is so little she
can't carry the sacks home as other gals do; so a strong young woman who
works at sacks carries them home for her, and charges her twopence for
it,--they car-ries them home on the top of their heads; but she is too
little, she is." (At that time women worked at sack-making, and carried
them home on their heads.)

"Can she put her finger up her cunt?" "I shan't tell you all that," said
she turning nasty. "Is her cunt as open as yours?" "No it ain't." "Then
she can't get her finger up." "Oh! you are a rum cove, you are,"
said she breaking away from me, "I never seed the like of you. I must
go,--tell me what time it is." "Half-past four." "I'll go,--I