VOLUME 4 CHAPTER 1

Sarah returns. • My love revives. • Her tour, and poverty. • My aid. • Old habits again. • Sarah jealous. • Lewed and lushy. • Her shop and her man. • A quarrel. • Yellow-haired Kitty. • At Cafe de P**v***e. • Kitty’s luck. • About Bob and Grace. • Kitty disappears. • Reconciled to Sarah. • Sarah with child. • Who is father? • Hannah’s sister. • Near it, but not quite. • Sarah’s luck. • A noble friend. • The Casino. • A failure. • Sarah’s home. • Troubles. • Her sister’s intrigue. • A hard life. • Sequel.

During my amours with Jenny I used to call at times to ask after Fisher, and if Sarah had been heard of. Of Sarah they had heard nothing, and if so, they did not tell me. Louisa was still ill. “Mrs. A* * * *y has been asking after you,” said Hannah, “she wants you to poke her, — she has a lovely leg, — why don’t you have her?” She had a Jewish nose, but indeed a lovely leg, and we fucked once or twice for love.

I also had a woman named Betsy Johnson (of whom I have said more further on), and a very fine tall woman with the loveliest eyes I ever saw, with such limbs and backside, and such a thickly-haired cunt. She was salacious also, and kept me fucking her when I was once in the house with her, whether I desired it or not. In fact she fancied me, and wanted to see me daily. But she was not a clean woman, so I ceased having her, — and years after heard she had been sent to prison for robbery.

At last Louisa came back thin and ill, and I began to poke her. Once or twice or so, she had fits of the baudiest abandonment, at other times was cautious, and would uncunt me, and wash her genitals directly I had spent, just as Sarah used. Again she spoke of my keeping her, and the idea of doing so began to take hold of me; for she was pleasant, a good talker, and I loved her lasciviousness, and wanted a woman to settle to, — when the half-formed intention went to the winds, be-cause Sarah Mavis returned.

Although I then only thought of Sarah with a sigh, I used to ask after her. One morning I went to J***s Street. As I opened the door Hannah looked out of the parlour-door, smiled, put her head back, then closed the door, again looked out, grinned, again closed the door, then opened it saying, “You may come.” In I went, and there leaning with one arm on the mantel-piece in the accustomed attitude stood Sarah Mavis.

“How do you do?” said she in her quiet way, as if I had only seen her the day before. With a cry of delight I rushed at her, my heart nearly bursting. All my love returned as I hugged her to my bosom. “Oh! my darling, my darling Sarah, how glad I am to see you again, — my love, my darling.”

After I had kissed her till, as she said, I had nearly worn away her face, I wanted her to come upstairs, for my prick was tingling with desire. She would not. “Impossible, — I’m dirty, — almost in rags, — landed from a steam-boat an hour ago, — have tasted nothing but water for twenty-four hours. Her children were with her, tears ran down her face. “Come upstairs, — come my darling.” “No.” “Go,” said Hannah, “I will lend you stockings, and a chemise, — you go upstairs sir, into the front-room, — she shall be with you in ten minutes.” “No I can’t, — I will in two hours, if I can get my children something to eat.” “Come at once, — I’m dying for you,” said I, “Hannah shall cook you something whilst with me.” “Go up you,” said Hannah, “she will follow.” Hannah cried at the scene, in-deed we all cried together.

Up I went. In ten minutes Sarah came up, a chemise and stockings on only, her long black hair hanging down her neck, a great cloak over all, lent by Hannah. I threw her on the bed, kissed her from head to foot, buried my lips in her fresh-washed cunt, and then ouf! ouf! out flooded my spunk into her, out flooded her cunt-juice to mingle with it. Starved, empty, miser-able as she was, how she fucked with me! How she enjoyed me!

Oh! the Elysium as the last drop of sperm sheds into the quim of the woman you love. What is this? Sarah heaving though we had barely reposed, — my prick is still in her. “Go on dear.” On I drove. “Ah! my darling fuck me, — oh! — I — have not — had a fuck — go on — f — for a — mon — month, — my d — darling.” My prick was working up into her stiff as ever, her big arse heaving, our tongues meeting, our juices mingling in another spend, and then was a talk after a long voluptuous silence. Its substance was this.

“I’ve never been poked for a month, — no six weeks, — we have sold all to keep us, — he is in prison.” Sarah was careless, care-worn, broken down. Grief and trouble makes any one so. She went downstairs after I had fucked the second time (without washing her cunt), to feed her children. “Don’t you come down, — we are none of us fit to look at, — I’ll come back when I’ve got a place to rest in tonight, — oh! how good you are,— thank God I’ve met you again, — I feared I should not.”

I gave her all the gold I had, Hannah gave food, and she went off. I went away, had luncheon, and four hours afterward we were in bed; and fucked till the poor worn-out wanderer went to sleep with my prick in her cunt, and snored almost whilst I was spending in her. Then laying in semi-nudity afterward, we fucked and slept till ten at night, when she went away. “If I am in the family way now,” she said, “there’s no doubt who is papa.” It is ridiculous the number of women I have got with child (or who have said so.)

I saw her next day, and daily for weeks afterward. Her account of her doings was this. Everything went well at first, — they made money, then some of the troupe got discontented with their share, quarrels arose, and two left, which spoiled the tableux. Then Mr. Mavis gambled, then was too polite to Sarah’s sister. The troupe got right again, but foreign gentlemen wanted to fuck Sarah. He would have allowed it, but she would not permit it. If she was to get her living as a whore she might as well stay in her own country, she said. A great swell paid a heavy sum to see her nearly naked, with boots and stockings on, and in a recumbent baudy posture. That she allowed, for the money he paid was so great; but her husband was in the room at the time. She insisted on that. The swell frigged himself before them both whilst she laid voluptuously for his inspection.

Then a large sum was offered for the whole troupe to perform naked. Some would, some would not, — Sarah would not. Her man should not see her sister naked, she was determined, and one woman would not permit her man to be naked, for he had said jokingly that he should stiffen if he saw Madame W**t*n naked. It ended in a row. One half of the troupe gave private exhibitions naked. “But,” said Sarah, “lots of them don’t look so nice naked as they may think.” Sarah and her man (who was a splendid animal), were the finest made of the whole lot. Sarah, a model to artists from fourteen years of age, knew pretty well what a fine man and woman were.

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 quarrelled 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 quarrelled 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 Café. “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.”

There stood Kitty and I leaning against the bed, arms round each other, kissing, my fingers on her clitoris, she grasping my prick. “Oh! no, — I’ve sworn, — I would if I had not, — I dare not, — there, — oh! now I so wish I had not come, — I’ll go if you don’t leave off, — oh! now don’t, — I’ll go,” — but she didn’t. There we stood, silent, lips glued to each other, she sighing, her bum twisting gently. Then I was on the bed, on her, up her, and the sighs which began as we stood at the bedside, frantically rubbing our privates, ended in deep sobs of satisfaction and tranquillity. Suddenly the waiter knocked. “On a servi, Monsieur.”

“In a minute,” said I, — and to go into the sitting room was the work of half a minute, — Kitty came in directly afterward. “The plates are cold,” said I. “They have been up five minutes, sir.” Kitty and I looked at each other. “What wine, sir?” I chose it, and he left. “I must go and wash,” said Kit. She had come in to save appearances. At length we finished dinner in the delightful gaiety of half-satisfied lust, with the tingling of renewed desire in prick and cunt, as we eat and drank, and chatted.

Kitty got at first pensive. “I swore with the Bible in my hand I never would let another man but him, and it will bring me ill luck.” But she brightened as she warmed with food and wine. We talked over old times. What a difference between the shabby ill-dressed girl of four years ago, who grabbed a sausage-roll like a coster-monger, and the lovely elegant woman who eat like a lady! I could scarcely believe my-self. How glad I was when dinner was over, and we dismissed the waiter. Then our talk ran wild. Our kisses, the feel of my prick, the titillation of her quim soon swept away all scruples. She was proud of her-self, delighted to show herself to me who had known her in her poverty, and she stripped to her skin. I found she was beautiful in form, and white as alabaster. I stripped, and both naked we fucked and fucked. My God how we revelled in sensuality, and fucked till my prick would not stand, and till her clitoris was sore with frigging. I think of it now with exquisite delight.

“I swear,” said she, “you were the first man who ever gave me pleasure, —I have often thought of that hot summer’s afternoon as we lay on the bed together, —how young I was, — I had never had my poorliness, —
ah! that first spend, — I shall recollect it to the last day of my life, — I got fond of you from that day, and never had another man till you left England, — money was of no use to me excepting to buy food, and yours was enough, — so I never had another man till you left. Then I had several, and soon went gay.” “You spent often enough then?” “It’s true,” said she, “for a few months I spent with every man I had, — I did not care what they gave me, — if they wanted it twice I let them, for I was dying for it always, but then I pulled myself together. You are the only man I ever told this to, for although my husband of course knows I was gay, he always thinks I had only been out one or two months, — he never asks me anything, and wants to forget all about my past. — And now excepting you, I swear I have never had another man but him since he has kept me.”

We talked about the little Pol whom she brought to me. She told me she had been got in the family way by her own brother, and she did not know what became of her. — Cousin Bob, oh! how we laughed about his frig, — that sight seems to have settled Grace. “It was her ruin,” said Kitty. “Grace was always frigging herself, and wishing she could let a man do it to her without fear, of the consequences, and after she had seen Bob frig himself, she got spoony on him. Very soon afterward Bob spent his seed up Grace’s receptacle, instead of on the floor, — Grace’s belly began to swell, and Bob, instead of helping her, cut her, and got rid of his sperm in some other girl’s trap. Then after fretting, Grace took another prick to comfort her, then another, then one for money, and finally went on the town.” It was Grace who was walking with Kitty one night when I met her in the Strand, and it turned out that a few weeks afterward she told Kitty that I had had her; but I had no knowledge of having done so. It occurred thus.

Whilst seeing Kitty and Brighton Bessie I had a stray poke from time to time. Grace had seen me speak to Kitty, and recollected me, but I did not know Grace from Eve. I picked her up, however, one night and had her. “Do you recollect,” said Kitty, “one night standing during a heavy storm under the pit-entrance to the Lyceum, and taking a lady from there?” I did perfectly. “She stammered a little,” said I. “Yes that was Grace.” “She was rather thin, straight, blackish hair on her cunt, cunt with biggish lapels.” “That’s she, — that’s she,” laughed Kate. The circumstance was an odd one.

Kitty told me her recent history, it seemed probable to me then, and not improbable now. She met a gentle-man, went to a house with him, then saw him again, and again; he offered to keep her and she had been with him ever since. He kept her mother and lived with Kitty, but could not introduce her into society, and was about to sell his commission and take her abroad to marry her. He was an officer, and on talking with her she was certainly well up in army matters. He had made her swear a solemn oath never to have another man whilst he was away, and to avoid her own relations and every one she had known. “Yes,” said Kitty, “I see what you are thinking about, but I declare before God that when I came to dine with you, I was determined not to let you have me. I felt curious about you just as you felt curious about me, and I have still a little liking for you, — see what has come of it, — I believe that I have ruined myself through coming here tonight, — I have a presentiment that great harm will come to me through it.”

He had been away for a month, wrote to her every day, and she to him. She had a nice little house, — not in Brompton, no — perfectly respectable, and had plenty of money. She saw one or two friends, one of whom was his sister. Her great difficulty that night was how to account for being so late out (for we stopped till one in the morning). I dare say she got over the difficulty, for women are clever liars.

“A whole month, Kitty! — and no poking?” “None.” “Then you frig.” “Of course, — I write a beautiful handwriting,” said she, “look, — every one says so.” She took down a wine-list, and borrowing my pencil wrote her name. I had been asking her her name, and she had refused it. “Read it.” “So that is your name.” She howled, and scratched it out with the pencil quickly, — she had forgotten her secret in her desire to show me how well she wrote. I forget the name, and she would not give me her address.

“We may never meet again, Kitty.” “I don’t think we ever shall.” Then with one consent we went to the bed. I laid down my head on her thighs, kissing her pretty quim, she frigging me, till with a chuckle as of old, she delicately took the tip of my pego into her mouth, only the tip, just as she used. Up it came at the challenge. We fucked a long hard-working, slow- spending fuck, and then we parted. Kitty’s cunt was as tight as when she was young, a sweet-looking cunt between dazzling white thighs, yet I always wished it another colour.

“I don’t want you to think me a gay woman any longer, but I have a superstition, — give me a piece of gold, and bring a light.” Then I went with her to the water-closet, and she threw the sovereign down it, — that was a charm to ward off evil for having broken her oath. “You have enjoyed me, Kit?” “I have not enjoyed myself so much I think since I last met you in Regent Street,” said she. With a kiss in the street we parted, and I never saw her since.

I asked her if she had been in the family way. “Yes, you got me with child before you left England, directly after I had my poorliness, — I never had anyone for a long time after you left, so it must have been you. Grace first said I was with child, and helped me by going with me to a woman who lives in a court in Long Acre.”

She had been so since twice by her protector, and had stopped it; but so soon as they were married he said they would have children. It was one of the reasons why he wished to marry her.

All this time I was in full favour with women, was in the prime of life, kind, sympathetic, thought handsome by women, and manly also. I see clearly now, how I could have had no end of other women without paying, but scarcely saw my opportunities then; and though I may have many instances to show, that my love was all that was wanted by some who threw themselves in my way, I can scarcely tell of them here. This luck ran over full ten years of my life, as nearly as I can recollect. During nearly four years of that, I was in love with Sarah who did not return it, but who used her power with moderation on the whole, though she tyrannised over me.

I would not see nor have Sarah for weeks after my last rupture with her, but could not help calling at J.*** s Street. I liked the scene of so much pleasure to me, to hear the click of the street-door as it opened, the rustle of petticoats going upstairs, the heavy step after them, the demand for a room, the reply, “First-floor front, sir.”

(I add now what on reading over the manuscript I do not find, — it is a needful addition written twenty years later.

(When Sarah knew that I was fully aware of her occupations and habits, she changed, talked with me about artists’ models, statuary, and so forth, and about her favourite poses as well, for she liked that work. To get me out of ill temper which her tyranny now often put me in, she would pose naked, all but silk stockings and her lovely little kid boots. It was an exquisite sight which almost directly made me mad to possess her. My prick swelled, stood out, lifting my shirt till I raised it, and rushed to feel her. Then laughing at my excitement she would alter her pose, till off went my shirt, she laid hold of my prick, I her cunt, and getting on to the bed I clasped her in my arms, and fucked her. Posing naked before me made her feel lewed and want me, she confessed, slow as she was at such confessions. “There,” said she one day when she saw my stiff prick, “that’s what would have happened if we had posed naked in Brussels.” Every man in the troupe had at one time or another solicited her favours privately, but she never told her own man that, for fear of a row.

(She generally posed thus after we had dined, and when what lust was in her constitution usually came out; I learned how to test her cunt- cravings in a simple way. Directly we got to the bedroom after dining she always piddled. I pushed my prick (stiffening in anticipation) in her face as she sat on the pot. If lustful she laid hold of it laughing, and pulled the foreskin backward and forward saying, “ah! — ahah! — look at it, — it’s ready”; — if not, and she was thinking only of getting away soon, she pushed it away, saying, “Can’t you wait now; — what beasts you men are; what pleasure can it give you to push that ugly thing in my face?” But who can give a reason for any baudy tricks, — they give pleasure, or they would not be done, by all men and women.

(Sometimes when she was posing I used to peep, trying to see more than the hair of the motte, and the dark shadow in the bum-furrow. Quite toward the end of our acquaintance I got her to pose in a lewedly suggestive attitude, but she never would open her cunt-lips herself, nor let me look well inside. She would leave me angry, rather than permit it. “It’s not made to look at, — pray go on swearing,” she would say as she dressed herself. “I’m going, — it’s ten o’clock.”

(Indeed her sexual orifice did not even then seem to me so handsome as those of other women. It was fat, large outside, with nymphae showing from clitoris to the vulva. Perhaps she knew that. It was loose in-side, must have been low down, and there was some-thing about it which I never understood, and therefore can’t describe. Scarcely any other woman yet that I can recollect uncunted me in the throes of pleasure as she did, when she enjoyed the prick, and was fucking energetically. “Damn it, it’s out, — oh! put it in, I was just coming,” were exclamations then made simultaneously by us.

(What made me so madly in love with her therefore, it is difficult to say. It must have been the perfection of her form, which enraptured me directly I saw it, and even to the last when she got too fat. Besides she had a quiet, comfortable, companionable manner, unlike a gay woman’s; and at that time though I liked a genial lewedness in a woman, open flagrant baudiness rather revolted me, and till lust stirred me fully up I was half chaste in my words, even with them. “Let me look at it, — show it me,” were more frequently my words than stronger ones. Nothing I said in those days excepting in highly wrought moments was comparable to my lascivious utterances now, when no language I find too plain to express the wants and acts of those organs which give us all the highest pleasure, both physically and mentally. I had not then learnt all the pleasure copulation is capable of, that unrestrained nature in coition is the best. The absurdity of calling any-thing indecent or improper, which men and women may like to say or do together when in private, had not occurred to me. I now believe that it matters not whether what they do be called unnatural, or beastly, or not. So long as both like it and enjoy it, it is natural to them, concerns no one else, is the instincts of their nature, and is to them proper.)

And now to my narrative. Sometimes if Hannah was not in the parlour, I would peep and see the happy couples going upstairs, the women generally first. If late they were often a little noisy, and made a liberal display of leg to the men following. Late at night if women were there, Hannah would then not let me in unless some of my female friends were there. When Hannah would not let me peep, I at times threatened not to make up her accounts. That threat was often successful, I never told any one for many years afterward about the accounts.

“Sarah is anxious to see you,” said Hannah one night, “so anxious.” I saw her, conquered, and we made it up. Soon after she was in the family way again, she said by her husband; but she would not be plagued with another child. She let it go on for a month or so, and during that time fucked freely, keeping my prick and my sperm up her as long as I wished it. I became fully convinced that sexually she was cold, though a good mother and wife; but I loved her delicious form, and if she would lay in artistically free and easy attitudes whilst I talked to her, was content. She never cared about baudy pictures. After dinner I had poked her, and we were lying half naked together, she would suddenly feel her clitoris for a minute, then say, “Come nearer, dear,” — that meant she would feel my prick for minutes, and then fuck, — fuck was the order. After her spend she got cold again, the dinner heated her, and when I had cooled her cunt, she was cool to me.

After a time either they grew tired of the shop or did not make enough money, for they started on a tour in the provinces with a troupe. Hannah said Mavis was too lazy to stick to his trade, and preferred either posing, or living on Sarah’s earnings. I was left unhappy again.

Again Mrs. Fisher appeared, and her modest lasciviousness again mastered my senses. I was getting accustomed to her, when Sarah came back. They had money, the shop business had gone, but now they at- tended to that. Sarah was always there, I used to see her in it, for though its whereabouts was kept secret at first, it was ultimately told me. I never went into it, but used to linger outside it just for the pleasure of looking at her, even though perhaps the same night I was to meet her. Such was my infatuation. She again met me, but only for as long as she liked. She said she met only me, and I, believed it to be nearly true. She was certainly never in the streets that I could discover. He never was in the shop. She told me he was always in the workshop. She might have done a little belly-bumping business by introductions, but Hannah, now quite at my service, declared that she never introduced her. Then Sarah was in the family way again. Said she, “I can’t tell if it’s yours, or his.”

Another miscarriage. Then she began to take a great deal too much wine, or anything else. I grudged her not, for she might have swallowed pearls if I had had the money to give them to her; but thought of her health and looks, knowing how liquoring gains on a woman, and how it ruins her. She was annoyed at my remarks. Let her be happy a little when she could. “Aren’t you happy?” “How can any one be happy living from hand to mouth as I am?” I began then to think she was unhappy. Now too she began to fuck with fury, when she had a little wine. One night I did not want it but once. “Fuck me again. — you shall,” said she. She threw herself into baudy attitudes, she whom I had usually difficulty in inducing to lasciviousness. At length pulling me on to her, she got another fuck, and directly dressed and went away. “Why Sarah, you have not washed.” “No I’m going to carry it home with me tonight,” she said with a savage sneering smile, “they’ll have a treat at home.” I never knew what she meant.

I asked her to leave her man; she was half inclined, — she was sick of life, — would I take her children too? Yes I would. A week afterward: No she must keep to him, however ill he might behave to her, — they were his children, — no one would take care of them but him. “Does he behave ill to you?” “Oh! no, poor man, he has enough to put up with.” All this was contradictory.

Then she got so capricious that I quarrelled. I was getting ashamed of allowing myself to be made such a fool of, arranging to meet her, waiting at the house, she never appearing, and so on. Hannah used to come and talk with me because I was so miserable. She was quite friendly, and if she wanted to piss she used to sit down and do it without any apology or remark before me now.

“He is a brute,” said she, “do you know he has several times been here whilst she has been with, you, and she has at once given him the money you have given to her, — what do you think of him? — isn’t she a fool? — poor Sarah! — ah! you are both to be pitied.”

Hannah’s other sister just then came as servant. She was a pretty creature, had a squint in one eye, but it did not seem to disfigure her. She had been a house-maid, and was found talking to a sailor in the house (she told me he was her cousin), and was turned out at once. I rather suspect she was found with the sailor’s belly up against hers, and nothing between their skins. I was such a fool that I could not help going to J***s Street nightly, asking after Sarah, and crying. This girl seemed to take a fancy to me, and both she and Hannah said I was a goose for troubling myself about Sarah. This was at a time when we had had a quarrel, and I thought I was punishing her; but it punished me awfully.

One night I sent a letter hoping Sarah would come. Word came back she could not, Hannah’s sister came in to tell me. I cried. “What a pity to take on so,” said she coming near me. I sat her down on the sofa, Hannah had told me she had a beautiful leg (she was about eighteen years old). We talked, I kissed her, she me. “You are plump for your age.” “Yes.” I felt her breasts. “Hannah says you have a nice leg.” “So they say.” “Let me see.” “No.” I began to lift her clothes, she resisted, my cock stiffened, her resistance ceased, she laid her face on my shoulder, I pulled up her clothes to her cunt. She had lovely limbs.

“Let me have you, — let’s fuck.” “Yes I’ve been longing for you,” she replied, and got up to bolt the door. My feelings then took a sudden turn, a complete revulsion. If Sarah knew it there would be a row, both of us would be sorry for it, I remarked. She made no reply, but left the room. I never had her, for the next day I got Sarah. The girl saw me many times after-ward, and used to look at me, but never referred to that night, and soon left the house. Hannah said she went back into quiet service, — perhaps a lie, but I tell it, as told to me.

Sarah one day said, “You were an hour and a half in the room with Esther (I think it was her name,) — did you have her?” “No.” “I believe you did.” ” I did not.” “You pulled up her clothes?” “Yes.” “Did you have her now?” “No.” “What, when your hand was on her thighs” “No.” “I don’t believe you.” “But it’s true,” said I. Sarah laughed. “Let’s do it,” said she.

I could write a volume about Sarah, but it would be tiresome, so will finish about her. After months worrying I heard that one or two officers used to fuck her, she admitted it and that she had been to Aldershot. “I must make money somehow,” said she. Then I revolted, but kept on with her for a time, and then the following came about.

Walking in the streets one day, she took the fancy of a nobleman who was seventy years old, they sold their shop, put that money, and the savings she had made by letting out her cunt, to open a Casino with poses plastiques, singing, dancing, etc., etc. She told me what they intended to do, — nothing venture, nothing have, — So-and-So had made a fortune that way, why not they? I urged against it, but gave a biggish sum to help. “What is the good? — You will never get enough,” said I. Then she told me of the nobleman, and his name. I was staggered, for I knew him and his wife. He had a large family, and had led an irreproachable life, but got so madly in love with Sarah that he wrote her letters, offered to keep her, and actually took her home to see Lady***, an aged woman who cried and said she did not blame Sarah, but did her husband for his folly and wickedness. He helped with much money, they started the Casino, after six months they failed, their money was spent, and they were in debt.

I believe that Sarah never knew my name. I was surprised when she told me the name of the nobleman. I never told her I knew him, though she once asked me if I did. Of course I said no.

I used to go to see her in the poses, go behind the scenes, order champagne, and do all I could to help. The poor woman worked like a slave. Then filled with despair, began to drink deeply, drunk she did not get, but she could swallow a pail full, and she got bloated. Unless she had plenty of liquor she was unable to act. She kept telling me all was going on well, when in fact the affair was going to the dogs.

Then I determined to give her up, I had done my best to help, she had not done much for me, so told her that I should go abroad. “Oh! pray don’t, — oh! pray don’t, — you don’t know what trouble I have, what I have done to keep a home over our head, how I have worked, slaved, whored to do it, for the sake of my children, and to keep him, to keep them all,” — but I left off seeing her, and prepared to go abroad.

“Sarah wants to see you,” said Hannah to me. “When?” “Tomorrow.” “I will be here.” She came with swollen eyes, slightly in liquor. “Oh! take me with you, take me abroad, out of this cursed place.”

Three years before I had offered that first, but had given up the notion, — said so. “It’s too late, and yet I could have loved you so, and I loved you, only I dared not show it,” said she. “Well I will drown myself, for home I never go again.”

Then came a scene. Hannah and her sister were called in whilst Sarah raved about her wrongs. She had kept them all, — all, — all, and now her sister was in the family way, — and by him! he had seduced her, — and when poor Sarah talked about sending her home to her mother, No he said, she should not go, but Sarah might, if she liked, — the sister whom she had kept, to be in the family way by him! Whilst she was walking the streets to get bread for them all, he was putting it into her sister, — for that sister she was to be turned out.

“I have suspected it for a year, have laid traps for them, but never could catch them, then I could not think after I had got money to set up fresh three times that he could be such a vagabond. — I have ruined my health by miscarriages, I am out of my mind almost with pain sometimes, and all for him, — and the little bitch, whom I have twice nursed through illnesses that the doctor said would kill her, — oh! I wish I were dead! — but I’ll take my time, and do for her and her child too, if it comes to one.” I gave money, and comfort, but she was in despair and murderous in intention. She was a cool determined woman, but she fell ill which upset her determination. She kept to her home, and under the pressure of the man, her children, her fears and misery, accepted her humiliation, helped her sister in her accouchement, and by harloting kept them all, but was broken-hearted and ultimately kicked out by her man, and by her sister, who took her place. Her sister I don’t think was gay, Hannah said so then. I lost sight of Sarah, and no one knew where to find her. I told Hannah I should like the sister, who resembled Sarah, and was fine- made, but smaller. I had seen her in the poses, but never had her.

Then I saw Sarah again well-dressed, and getting money, but heart- broken. The man had her children, and refused to give them up to her. He had knocked her down. She had threatened a magistrate. He had said that he would tell the magistrate that the reason why he refused them was that she was a whore and a drunkard. She had the misery of seeing her man, her two children, and her sister walking out together, and of her own children telling her she was a whore, and that they would be whipped if they spoke to her. She told me this — Hannah said it was true.

Then she left the quarter, and went to live with her mother somewhere in the extreme north of London, and drank very hard, Hannah said.

I met her a few years afterward in the Euston Road. How she had aged! “You, Sarah!” “My God, you!” She wanted me to go with her. “One kiss for old acquaintance sake, for I loved you more than you thought.” “No you did not.” “Yes, but my children.” I would not go with her, gave some money, and though I yearned toward her, left. (Hannah had left J***s Street, and the new keeper knew not my Sarah). Again after a time I saw her. I stopped her, and gave her money unsolicited, and never saw her again. She told me she was living with a man. She looked poor and broken.

A few years afterward the trunk of a young woman was found floating in the Thames, there was a peculiar scar below the bosom. I have often wondered if that was the end of Sarah.

I must mention here that after their Casino failed, they acted in poses plastiques at a tavern in the City Road. I took a friend who will presently be named to see them act. Sarah was then much fagged and dilapidated.