She and her husband tried to get up poses again, but could not make up a troupe. He gambled “for the best,” she said (she always excused him). They got from bad to worse. Their stage and machinery were then seized, which stopped their exhibitions. He got sent to prison for debt. She waited in hopes of his being set free, pawned and sold all she had, and at length came to England with her two children to see what she could do here, where she had relations. She had landed with the children hungry and wet, without a farthing, and had walked with them from Wapping that very morning, after a stormy twenty hours passage from Antwerp. She was haggard, with sunken eyes, her flesh was flabby, and she had every indication of suffering and misery about her when we first met. Why she never went whoring abroad I can't say. I can't say she did not, but she averred that no one but her husband had done her, and that from the day he went to prison to the day she returned to me, she had not been fucked. “If I must be a whore I'll do it with my own countrymen, and not with those nasty foreigners,” she remarked.

We had a honey-moon, and fucked night and day. “I wish I had gone away with you,” said she to me one night, “but it was not to be.” I believe (you can't be sure of a woman) that she had no man but myself now. I paid for her lodgings, food, and dresses, got out of pawn from Brussels numerous articles, employed an agent to do it, and even helped with money to set her man free.

In about eight weeks he came to London. Then she changed, and relapsed very much into her old habits immediately. Would not do this, nor that, would only meet me this time, or that, as she pleased. It was of no use grumbling. “You know I can't,” she would say, “so why bother me.” “He won't let you.” “Well he is the father of my children, and I must make him comfortable.” “You keep him, surely you may do as you like.” It was of no use, she would not, and again I submitted.

So things went on. Meetings of a morning, dinners at the Cafe, just as before. Then, I could not learn why, she would not meet me for a whole fortnight. I got angry, would not see her at all, and by mere chance then met Kitty with the yellow hair. When it was known that I had quarreled with Sarah, Mrs. Fisher, who had ceased seeing me, turned up. I went one day to learn from Hannah if she had seen Sarah. No she had not, “but there is an old friend of yours in the parlour.” It was Louisa. She cried. So did I, but it was about Sarah. After Louisa's vowing that she would never let me again have her, — no never, we had a game of tailing which lasted some hours. “Now you will tell Sarah.” “No I won't.” But Sarah came to know it. Whenever I quarreled with Sarah afterward, I put my prick into Louisa or for a time Jenny, of whom I have already written, and occasionally in a fit of lewedness turned into the first whore I got hold of, out of Regent Street.

Then I saw Sarah again, and we made it up, and she behaved better to me. After a time I found she walked occasionally in Regent Street, began to talk lasciviously, and would drink like a fish. To see her regularly on the streets shocked me. Well, she must get some money, — when she had saved a certain sum she would take a business. Mr. Mavis was by trade a * * * *, and was determined now to follow it, and open a shop for the sale of his goods, — she would attend to the shop. I gave her much money on condition she would never traipse the streets. If she saw friends, or those who were introduced to her, I could not help it, but I had a horror of the pavement, and of her bringing in any man who took to her. Quiet whoring with me, and a select few if she liked. I agreed to that. So she disappeared from the pave as far as I know.

The shop was opened, and was successful. Poor Sarah was for months in a state of joy, and would scarcely come to me. No, they were getting on, he was steady, they earned a good living, — not as much as she did by her being gay, but enough. It was sweeter and better than money got by wriggling her buttocks. She cooked all the meals, and was always at home, but she came to me occasionally. That for a short time gave a rest both to my pocket and ballocks, and I respected her for her decision, but could not bear the perpetual disappointment at her refusals. At first I used to go home with my heart breaking, and then tried for Louisa Fisher; but she told me once and for all, that she would have nothing more to do with me as long as I knew Sarah; and I saw no more of Louisa for weeks. Jenny was then about to leave her place and marry. I was unhappy, for I was dotingly fond of Sarah, and my misery at home drove me to the company of other women. Cunt certainly saved me from drinking, — but I thought I would go abroad to get clear of all.

I fancy that her man had too much of Sarah's company, or the temptation to let her get money was too strong, for when annoyed in every way, I told Sarah of my determination to go abroad, either what I said, or the fear of losing me affected her; and she said she would see me oftener, and even dine, which she had al-most ceased doing.

Dinners then became frequent. “Come at seven o'clock.” “I can't till half-past.” “Then stay with me till twelve.” “You know I must be in at ten.” “Then you won't be an hour with me.” “Well you can do all you want in an hour.” This began to revolt me, to think that my whole object in seeing her was to fuck, yet I submitted. One night she came late to dinner. “I must be home earlier tonight.” “When?” “At half-past nine.” “Why it's eight now.” “You will have time to have me.” “Then I won't go in.” We were outside the Cafй. “Nonsense, — come.” “I'll see you damned first, — good night,” — and I walked toward the cab stand. She stood still for a moment, then came rapidly after me. “Now don't be angry, — do come dear, — I want a poke so, — I can't bear you going away so, — let us go to J***s Street at once, — I must have you, — you shan't go without our having a kiss together.” “Will you stop till ten?” “No.” “Damned if I'll be humbugged any longer,” said I, hailing a cab. “You are not going away, are you, like that?” I drove off, and so we parted, and I would not call at J***s Street for weeks.

While in this state of unhappiness, I was in Regent Street one afternoon when I met an elegantly dressed woman with her veil down. Through it I saw her eyes fixed on mine, and knew her at once. “Kitty!” “Walter!” We stopped. “Don't talk here,” said she, walking on till she turned down a by-street, I following her. There we shook hands, glad to see each other. I wanted her to come with me to O*d*n Street. No it was impossible, but she would meet me to dine in Leicester Square in about two hours. She would come if she could, — if she did not it would be no fault of hers.

“But it's of no use your asking me if you expect to have me, for you won't.” “Nonsense, — not the man whose prick you first had pleasure with?” “No, not even you.” “Very well, — I'm miserable, I love a woman who behaves badly to me, — I must dine some-where, come and dine, and let's talk of old times.” “I cannot stop late.” “Go when you like, but come.”

At the Cafe de * * * * I ordered a room. “No not this, one with a bedroom where we can wash hands.” “They are all let today sir, — we have only one bedroom and sitting room for travellers who may arrive tonight.” “Well we shall stop all night,” — and the rooms were reserved for me.

Kitty came. She had changed her dress, and was in black silk, but most elegant it was, and showed her colour off to perfection. The waiter had gone. “Take off your bonnet, — don't lay it down there, — go into the other room.” In she went, I followed. “A kiss.” “Yes,” — kiss, — a hug. “Oh! Kit how lovely you are, — what a fine woman you have grown, — as plump as ever.” “Plumper,” said she. “Yes, I can feel it out-side.” “Now leave off, — mind what I told you.” “Nonsense, — oh! for God's sake Kit only a feel.” I put my hand up her clothes, and felt the cunt. She struggled. “Oh! Kit let me, — think how often I have done it.” “No, — no, — I have sworn I never would again, — now pray don't, — I've sworn I tell you.” “Well only another feel.” “Will you promise?” “Yes.” She let me grope. “Oh! that cunt, — more hair than ever, — oh! feel me, — do.” Out I lugged my prick. “Oh! feel it.” “Well there, — there, I have, — now take your hand away.”