CHAPTER VII.
I fucked Whiteteeth in the meadow one night again. We selected a field further off, which led to another bit of luck. She had left me, and I was stepping quietly, so that if met, no one might suppose we had been together; when I heard on the other side of a hedge, movements, and the voices of a male and female. They sat down within a few feet of where I was. I only heard imperfectly, and tell as well as I could gather what was said.
"I can't stay", said she, "mother will be after me,—she don't know I am out of the yard." A kiss,—many kisses,—a scuffle,—"be quiet",—then all was a mumble. Then "I won't,—I won't,—never again,—you shant." "Hush!" said he, "suppose some one is near." "Do let's feel it,—let's do it", said the male, "do it once, do it twice, it's all the same once done." I kept as quiet as death.
"No" (here something I could not catch),—"no,—it warn't no pleasure to me,—I've been crying ever since,—you won't marry me after all I dare say, though I let you do it." "So help me God I will, I'll marry you." He swore quite loudly. "Hish!" "Mother won't let us, she hates you." The female whimpered, then was mumbling, kissing, soothing, quietness, then
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