By getting well as quick as you can, my Lizzie. And then -'

'Ah! Won't I just! If I was kind before I will be doubly kind now! But I am all right! I had a bad go of fever last night, and my poor legs are stiff and sore, but I am well! If I only had some quinine, now would be the time to take it, just to keep off a second attack of fever.'

I had purchased a bottle of this invaluable powder at Bombay, and I ran and got it, and gave her the quantity she said would be right, in a glass of water.

'There,' she said, having made a wry face as the bitter dose ran down her throat, 'now something to eat, for I feel faint for want of food and I am hungry. You see I was bad, my Charlie, but I think it was more fright than anything else.'

I had, when I left her to go and get my peg that morning and before I went to sleep, called Soubratie and ordered him to prepare and have ready whenever it might be called for, some strong beef tea, and this I had brought, hot and refreshing, to Lizzie, who was really moved at this additional proof of my care and devotion to her.

'Oh! Charlie! If all men were only like you!' she exclaimed, and the soft tears of gratitude rolled down her lovely cheeks. I kissed them off and she put my hand on one of her swelling breasts, saying: 'There! my Charlie! I would let you have me this morning if I could, but I feel too weak for that. I dare say when I have had another good sleep I shall be better, and then darling, we will fuck, won't we!'

I laughed and said we would and put her hand, in my turn, on my bunch of charms, and showed her how greatly fatigue and watching had reduced the strength and vigour of what the most ardent battles between her shapely thighs had failed to subdue. Poor Lizzie! She looked so disappointed! But as her little hand toyed with my limp prick and played with my relaxed balls, fresh life came, and to her joy she succeeded in raising a perfect standard, to be planted as soon as possible in the keeping of her fort. But both of us were wearied and tired out, and I told her she should go to sleep, and that I would go to my own bed and sleep too, for I was dead tired, and with more sweet kisses and caresses she turned on her side and was soon asleep. I then left her and going to my own room threw myself on my much needed couch, in the cool breeze of the swinging punkah, and was soon sound asleep.

Whilst Lizzie and I are thus hors de combat, it will, I think, be a good time to tell my dear readers her early history, and I will endeavour to keep her words as nearly as possible. So, gentle readers, imagine that Lizzie and I are either seated on the verandah, after our dinner, or are in or rather on the bed together, whilst she tells her artless tale, certain portions of which she and I illustrated by very suggestive action when either her memory added fuel to the amorous passion which made her blood boil or my wanton fancy stirred all the man in me.

'Well, Charlie, I was born and bred in Canterbury. My earliest recollections are all associated with that dear old place, and for the first thirteen years of my life I never left it. My mother is the only parent I can remember. My mother was a dressmaker by trade and custom was good. She never seemed in want of money, whether she had work or not; on the other hand, though we had an honest plenty in our house, there were no luxuries, nothing for mere show, except perhaps in one of the rooms kept for ladies to try their dresses on, where she had some little knick-knacks for appearance's sake. As a child I used to think that a splendid room, and wonder if anyone else had as fine things as my mother had! So you must understand we had a sunny, warm house, good food, good plain clothes, good beds, in fact, everything which was required for real comfort, but nothing superfluous.

'My mother kept no servant, that is, no one actually lived in the house as such; an old charwoman came every morning and did what scrubbing and cleaning was required. My mother and I did light dusting, made our beds, etc., and cooked our simple meals. Until I was twelve years old I went to school, and as I was pretty quick, I learnt perhaps more there than girls usually do. And there, too, I formed acquaintances among the other girls, and as our conversations were not always about lessons and sums, apples or lollipops, I gathered some information about the relations of the sexes, about lovers and their ways, which I did not repeat to my mother. However, what I did learn in this way in no respect had any effect upon me or my morals. I knew I had a little cunnie, and that I should have babies one of these days, and that I should have regular monthly illnesses. I believed that I should marry, and when I did, I believed that my husband would put his 'thing' into my 'little thing' and that in time I should have a child, as I saw all married women do, but although girls used to talk about these matters, there was never any reference to the vast delight to be found in fucking. We were all too young to know more than something vague and undefined. But before I was thirteen my mother withdrew me from school, no only because I was growing very tall for my age, but because my bosom began to form, and two lovely little doves of breasts to push out on either side of my chest. With what pride and pleasure did I see them grow. Even my mother, when she bathed me regularly every Saturday in a tub before I went to bed, remarked on them, and said to me one day, "Lizzie, you will have a perfect bosom. I don't remember ever seeing prettier or better placed breasts, or any which looked to be so quick growing." And I would notice her eye give a quick look down at my cunnie, and I guessed she was looking to see if my hair there was beginning to sprout. But my bubbies were a good bit grown before any came. However, the hair and my menses came almost together. First there was a profusion of little black-looking points all over what you call my motte, Charlie, and hairs grew from them very rapidly, so quickly indeed that by the day I was thirteen I had quite a nice bush which I could twine round my finger. My cunnie, too, underwent a marked change. It seemed to grow fatter and become more formed. I can hardly explain, but I am sure you must have noticed similar changes in your prick and balls when your bush began to grow. You may say, then, that as far as outward appearances were concerned, I was quite a woman at thirteen and I had a fair amount of flesh on my bones, a lovely bosom, a nice waist, fine swelling hips, good thighs and very pretty feet and ankles. I was too well formed altogether for short dresses, and my mother made me some long ones, in which I used to admire myself in the tall glass in the trying-on room. Still although I certainly did admire myself, it never entered my head to court the admiration of men. I had not, as yet, felt the least spark of desire, and if, as I dare say she did, my mother watched to see any signs of coquetry or flirting in me, she saw none, for there were none to be seen. However, I was much nearer the realisation of the hidden stores of pleasure I had within me, than either she or I was aware of.

At the back of our house was a longish bit of garden, say something like fifty or sixty feet long, by thirty or forty feet wide. This garden was my mother's pride, for she raised early potatoes, and all kinds of vegetables in it for our use, besides plenty of pretty and sweet flowers, so that we always had nice vegetables for dinner, and nosegays for our table and mantelpiece. At the end of the garden was a lane on the side of which was a row of stables where the officers of the cavalry used to keep their private horses. I used to be very fond of leaning against our little wicket to see those beautiful horses, all bridled and saddled, being taken to their masters for exercise. Sometimes the officers themselves came to have a look at the stables, but they paid no attention to me, so I was quite accustomed to looking on without being spoken to. About August, however, when I was a little more than three months older than thirteen, some stables, which had been empty, were taken by an officer who had three beautiful horses. I was curious to see who this officer was, for he was new, and so one evening I was watching for him, hoping he would come, when I saw a tall, slight, but a fine and very handsome young officer in undress uniform, stable jacket, breeches, long boots and spurs, and his gold-laced cap well on one side and far back on his head, come walking at a smart pace down the lane, smacking his boot every now and then with his riding whip and looking right and left, as if he were taking everything in and that everything was new to him.