ed to hold my tongue I suppose,"
then she would sulk, and then, "Well let's have another fuck," and all
would be right till I stopped her foul tongue again.

Half her time she was drunk. I would go there, not see her at the door,
then call out to the woman, "Is Kate in?" "Yes she's drunk, I ain't
seen her since the morning." Sometimes her door was locked, nothing then
roused her, and away I went. At other times she was in the bed, or
on it, and all but insensible. Several times I fucked her, put five
shillings in her pocket, and left without her knowing I had had her
until afterwards.

I had now fits of timidity, and used French letters at times, even when
she was quite sure she was all right. One day when she was very drunk, I
had her with a letter on, and as my cock dwindled out I eased the letter
off it, and with my finger pushed it well up her cunt, and went away
without paying her. I should like to have known what she thought when
she found the French letter up her. I never alluded to it, and she never
did. Why I behaved so I don't know, it is a wonder to myself. That night
I had entered her room, and left unobserved by any one.

When she was a little drunk only, she got spoony, and I could not get
away from her, she would lay hold of my prick, and keep to it. "I can't
do it again Kate." "Get on me, and I'll make you,"--and she usually did.
Then as liquor overtook her she ceased to wash her cunt after fucking,
would turn on her side, and go to sleep. I left her often snoring with
her cunt full, the money on the table.

It always was a wonder that she kept such a beautiful skin and look, but
she did; and always was cool, fresh, and healthy-looking, even if she
had been drunk for twenty-four hours previously. Her breath and body
were as sweet as milk, yet she never had a bath as far as I know, but
performed all her ablutions in a little basin, throwing the water into
the street when she had done with it. I have seen her wash from head
to foot that way in a quart of water, and a wet rag, and when done she
looked like ivory.

She was called Irish Kate, why?--I never knew, nor did she. She was not
Irish.

I had words with her one day, having lost a diamond pin. She had been
pulling me about that night, but the same night I had been into a house
with two women, and had felt their quims. I offered more than the value
of the pin, but never got it back. After that I did not go near her
again for a long time, but at l