d been away three
months, how she looked at me and at my doodle, after I had fucked the
first one!

Towards dusk I went to meet my washerwomen. Near the corner of the lane
in which they lived was an old-fashioned public-house well back from the
road, in front of it were two large elm-trees, beneath them seats where
poor people sat drinking and enjoying themselves in Summer. I stopped
and looked. Quite at the back sat the two women whom I had fucked; they
had pewter pots in front of them, and recognized me at once. Both got
up, and rushed inside the public-house rapidly. Funk was on their faces,
they seemed to struggle who should get inside the door first. I never
saw them afterwards, but at the sight of them my cock stood rigidly, and
I would have had them again had it been possible. Many a time since I
have been to that churchyard to look at the place among the tombs where
we three had our pleasures, and my prick always stiffened when I was
there. Such impromptu copulations have a wonderful charm.

CHAPTER X.

The washerwoman's lane.--An intention frustrated.--A slap in
the face.--Choice language and temper.--A dinner in the
Haymarket.--The rocking-chair.--A lucky shove.--Up, and out
in a second.--A quarrel, and flight.--An enticing laugh.--
The house in O... d. Street.

Down the lane was the washerwoman's cottage, it had a little garden in
front of it. Through the window I saw the girls ironing by candle-light,
I walked about till quite dark, then knocked at the door. The short one
opened it, and seeing me shut the door saying, "Oh! you musn't call." So
I went away.

Then I wrote asking them to meet me, and got no reply; but I persevered.
I was constantly thinking of the girls' baudy talk when sitting on the
barrow. I went to the house again, after writing to say when I would be
at the end of the lane, and found them standing there,--by accident they
said, they declared they had not had my letter. That was a lie I knew. I
began smutty talk, which they cut short by both going to their cottage.

I wrote letters to the short one again, asking her to meet me, but
nothing came of that. At the end of their lane were market-gardens, I
saw Esther one evening at that end which joined the high-road, and was
close to the public-house where I had seen the women sitting whom I had
poked in the village church-yard. It was dark. I asked her to come for a
walk, she promised in a few minutes to co