the belly side. I sat at the side of the bed, got off
boots, trousers, and drawers; then laying down gently inserted my
longest finger and delicately began rubbing her clitoris which I could
see protruding of a fine crimson color. Then she moved; she was not
asleep, but dazed by the fuck, fear of the lightning, the excitement,
the heat, and the fumes of the wine combined.

She stared at me, pulled down her clothes, and tears began to run down
her cheeks. What a lot of women I have had cry at such times "Don't cry
my darling." She turned on to her face, and hid it. For a quarter of an
hour, I talked, but she did not answer. I told her she had spent, that
I knew she had had pleasure. Then I pushed my fingers up her cunt; still
she did not speak, but let me do just what I liked, keeping her eyes
shut. So soon as my rammer was up to the mark, up her it went fucking,
and again I felt it's stem well wetted. She was a regular streaming
spunker.

After that, "I am going downstairs," said she. "I'll come." "No don't."
"You only want to piddle." "Yes," said she faintly. "Piddle here,--what
will it matter?" "I can't." "I'll go out if you won't bolt the door."
"It's no good bolting the door,--you have ruined me." I went outside,
closed the door, and heard the rattle in the pot. When I re-entered she
was sitting at the side of the bed crying quietly; she did nothing but
look at me, but without speaking. "Arrange yourself in case any one
comes to the door." "No one will come." "The milkman?" "He will put it
down inside the porch." She sat down the picture of despair. Never had
I felt more lewd, I was mad that day with lewdness. "Let's feel your
cunt," said I. "I have spent in it three times." "I don't care what you
do, you may do what you like,--it's of no consequence." I felt up her
cunt, she hung her head over my shoulders whilst I paddled my fingers in
the wet. "Don't hurt me," said she. "I have not hurt you."

"Yes you have." "Let's look." That roused her. "Oh! no,--no,--no,--you
shan't." "Wash your cunt" I fetched the sherry, but she had not washed
her cunt. "You should wash it out." "Oh?--oh!" said she, "if I should be
with child I shall never be married."

She drank more sherry, and promised to wash. Then I went downstairs,
fetched up the broach and the ten sovereigns, and gave them to her. "How
shall I say I got it?" "Does he know how much you have saved?" "Yes."
"Is it a year's wages?" "Yes,"--and she began to cry again.