been the scene
of the slaughter of her virginity, and there fucked; sometimes we
walked instead of riding home, and when near the village, turning down
a secluded street, or lane, I set her back up against a fence, and had
her; then with her cunt buttered home she went alone. I took her once or
twice to the theatre, and for fear of being seen had a box; but I could
not afford those extravagances. Although not a bad-looking girl, and one
who would stir up sensations in a man's ballocks when he looked at her,
she was vulgar in appearance; and neither bonnets nor dress made any
improvement in her,--she was a washerwoman all over.

After she was well acquainted with two or three baudy houses I grew
tired of her, and quarrelled with her. One night I went to my mother's
who was ill; and as I passed the end of the lane where Esther lived saw
one or two young men and women larking. She and her sister sometimes
came to the end of the lane when their work was done, to see the people
going along the high-road, and to chat there with neighbours. The men
were chivying the girls, and Esther was one of them. I watched them from
a safe distance, heard laughing and screeching, and every now and then
one of the girls chased by a man darted down the dark lane, and I heard
a shriek. There was no light in the lane, and not much even in the
high-road from the feeble oil-lamps. I thought also that I saw Esther
kissed, she yelled and got away, but it seemed to me she much liked it.
For some reason all the wenches suddenly disappeared, and the men,
who were of the laboring class, leaned against the railings of the
public-house, and talked. I walked slowly by them, and heard one say,
"I felt her cunt the other night, so help me Gor." I did not know who he
spoke of, but I made up my mind it was Esther.

I wrote Esther to meet me, and then told her she had let a man feel her
cunt, and what I had seen and heard. She denied all cheekily, but got
confused when I told her what the man said. "I was in the lane," said I
afterwards, "and quite towards that end where I have felt you often,--I
hid, and I know he was feeling you there." It was a bare-faced lie of
mine, because I had gone away; but it was a hit. "He didn't," said she,
"though he tried." "I heard him say you felt his prick," said I lying
away again, "he went up the lane, and told that tall young man that, 'so
help his God', you had." "He wanted to make me, but I didn't,--he is
the greatest