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MY SECRET LIFE I marry he will find me out, if I don’t they will lead me such a life; oh! what shall I do I” We fucked twice in the rain against a wall, putting down the umbrella to do it. Afterwards we met at the dressmaker’s, talked over our misery and cried, and fucked, and, cried again. Then it was nothing but worry, she crying at her future, I wondering if I should be found out; still with all our misery, we never failed to fuck if there was a clear five minutes before us. Then her mother wrote to say that old Brown was dead, and her father meant to take her away directly; she refused, the father came, saw my mother, and settled the affair by taking back Charlotte’s box of clothes. I had not a farthing; at her age a father had absolute control, and nothing short of running away would have been of use. We talked of drowning ourselves, or of her taking work in the fields. I projected things equally absurd for myself. It ended in her agreeing to go home,— she could not help that,—but refusing to marry.

Charlotte wrote me almost directly after her return. My mother had reserved the right of opening my letters, although she had ceased to do so. That morning seeing she had one adressed to me, in fear I snatched it out of her hand. She insisted on having it back, I refused, and we had a row. “How dare you sir?, give it me.” “I won’t, you shant open my letter.” “I will, a boy like you!” “I am not a boy, I am a man, if you ever open a letter of mine, I will go for a common soldier, instead of being an officer.” “I will tell your guardian.” “I mean to tell him how shamefully short of money I am, uncle says it’s a shame, so does aunt.” my mother sunk down in tears, it was my first rebellion; she spoke to my guardian, never touched my —122—