e but you, since my miscarriage,--I won't let him, and he doesn't
want me in the family way."

"You an actress!" "Yes,--have you never seen me?" "No." "Are you sure?"
"Yes." "Did you ever see the Poses plastiques and Madame W...t.n?" "Yes,
two or three years ago." "Well I was one of her troupe." "God God!--and
what do you do now?" "Nothing,--but we have a troupe going on the
Continent,--I am the principal--I am Madame W...t.n now."

Then she told me she had in her youth been a model for artists, had sat
to Etty and Frost, hers was the form which had been painted in many of
their pictures,--and then she would say no more.

I grew sadder and sadder as the time came for her departure; so did she.
She said I worried and unsettled her; she wondered sometimes if she
were doing the best thing for herself and children or not. She was so
frightened lest she should get in the family way, that as already said
she made me withdraw before the critical moment, spending my sperm on
her thighs or on the crisp hair of her motte. I got an idea into my head
(a stupid one enough), that if she were to get in the family way by me
she would stay in London; and one night after we had dined, and she had
had pleasure in my groping, and as usual had said, "Now don't do it in
me," I plunged my prick up, and spent a full stream in her cunt. "I hope
to God that sperm's all up your womb," said I. Her own pleasure had so
overcome her, that she could not move for a minute; then jumping up she
washed herself with a sponge,--she recently had used one. I never had a
spend in her again for months afterwards.

Then for hours I used to look her over and over from head to foot, as if
I wished to recollect every part of her person for ever afterwards: the
roots of her hair, the ears, the way the hair grew on the nape of her
neck; the way it grew on her cunt, and in her arm-pits, and every other
part I used to look over as if searching for something; the only part of
her which escaped my investigations was the bum-furrow, which was to me
an uncomfortable part in all women, and in my wildest sexual ecstacies
and aberrations I neither felt it nor saw it, and don't know whether the
hole was round or square; red or brown.

After she had told me she had sat as a model, she brought me a small
oil-painting of herself made by an artist of some rank. She was proud of
it, and so was her husband. I offered such a price for it, that placed
as she was she could not resi