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MY SECRET LIFE not?” “Why we sleep together and I know.” “Who sleeps in the other bed?” “Fearther.” “In the same room?” “Yes.” “Don’t you know anything against her?” “No, last hay-making I seed a young man trying to put his hands up her clothes, that’s all; she has only been a woman a few months.” If she tells of her, she will tell of me, I thought. It might come to my aunt’s ears, Fred would know, and I should get into a scrape.

“It is a pity she has not done it”, said I, “for then she would not tell.” “I wish she had”, she replied. One thing suggested another. “She knows all about what we were doing?” Sarah nodded. “Get her to promise not to tell, and get her to let me do it to her, and I will give you two pounds”, said I, taking the money out of my purse.

It was more money than she had ever had in her life at one time, her eyes glistened; she was silent a minute as if reflecting, then said, “She has always been unkind to me, and she shant get me turned out if I can help it.” Then after farther talk, some hesitation, and asking me if I was sure I would give her the money, she said, “I’ll try, let’s have a jolly good drink, then I'll leave you together”, and we went into the kitchen. I saw her dodge.

Martha was leaning, looking out of the window, her bum sticking out, her short petticoats showing a sturdy pair of legs; she turned round to us, it was about eleven o’clock in the day, the old man was at work far off and had taken his dinner with him that day, Sarah had told me.

“You won’t tell father”, said Sarah in a smooth tone. No reply but a grin. “If you do, I will tell him I saw young Smith’s hand up your clothes.” “It’s a lie.” —163—