MY SECRET LIFE
have hit me if I had lost it.” As she took it I entered and closed the door.
She had finished the gin, for the empty bottle was on the table. She may have been more than fuddled, I cannot say; for I was so excited that I recollect only the most prominent circumstances. I was in a funk, but my cock was stifl, and that overcame all scruples. The house had but two rooms: a kitchen I was stand- ing in, the street-door opened on to it. An open door showed a neat bed in a clean white-washed bed-room. How I began I know not, but recollect telling what I had heard, and that for months he had not been a hus- band to her. That set her ofl talking wildly, and she said it all over again. She was sure he was spending his money on some dolly, hoped she might catch her, then cried, wiped her eyes and said, “Well, that is no business of yours, I am a fool for talking to a young gentleman like you, I don’t know what you are doing here.”
“Let me do it to you,” said I, “I have seen up your clothes, let me,—you are so nice, and I want you so badly; why should you not, he is no husband to you, and you such a nice woman.” That was my art- less beginning, or something like it. Fright at my impudence was struggling against my cock-stand. For a second she seemed speechless, then replied, “Well sir, you ought to be ashamed,—a married woman like me.” “He is no husband to you, he never does it to you, you know, — I heard you tell the women so; they laughed, and said he had some hussy whom he did it to.” “That’s no business of yours, but he is a bad
one,’ and she began crying again. “Now go sir go,
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