e was often crying,
but a little friction on her clitoris usually cured that. On the last
day I asked her if she was in the family way? She admitted it, and went
to her situation. "I think it's you who have done it," said she to me.
I told her it must be Giles.

She stopped a fortnight in her situation, then went no one knew where.
Pender told me when I went back. I was sorry, went to town hoping to
find her, and wrote to the post-office. By some chance--perhaps to get a
letter from Giles--she went there. A week afterwards my landlady said
a young woman had called on me. "A lady?" said I. "Not at all, an
overdressed young woman." It was Molly, who called again. I went to her
poor lodgings, she fenced my questions, said she meant to go back to her
mother's. Pressing her as to how she lived, she said she had the money
I had given her. "But your bonnet, your clothes,--what do you do of a
night?" She could not evade it, Molly had turned whore. I never knew who
had put her up to getting her living by her cunt; but a fellow-servant
had left with her, and had got the next room to hers.

A woman who takes to whoring takes to lying. I could not learn exactly
how long she had stayed at her situation, or much about her movements. I
stayed with her the night, she let me pull up her clothes, and open her
thighs with a freedom she never had done before; from which I inferred
she had had more than one prick in her split since I had been up her
last; she was voluptuous, and her cunt was unusually juicy.

I went back to my aunt's sorry, for I seemed to have been largely the
cause of Molly going astray, and did not know then that a gay life is
as happy as that of the wife of a farm-laborer. Restless I went again
to London, saw Molly who looked fearfully wretched, would neither let me
fuck, nor feel her, and then broke out in an agony of tears, saying she
was ill, something was the matter with her. "With your cunt?" "Yes,"
said she, "do look." Poor Molly opened her plump thighs, stretched open
her cunt, and gave me every facility. Her quim was in a high state of
inflammation, and it had a discharge. A medical student who saw her said
she had the clap, and gave her medicine. "Oh! do look again, tell me if
I am very bad,--shall I be worse?--oh! I am so sorry I did not keep at
my situation," said she.

Once in my life since, another girl made me a similar confession, and
those are the only two who confessed to an illness at the time they