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MY SECRET LIFE she laughed and said, “done again.” I swore I would

some day. “No you won’t, you’re not the ﬁrst that has tried," said she, and I went home without having felt her quim properly.

I attempted it the next day and at every opportunity in the house and out of it, till new servants came. She felt my prick, would look at it, squeeze the balls, talk about fucking and baudiness to any extent, tell me what she had seen, and what she had heard about such matters. She at length scarcely resisted my feel- ing her bum, belly and legs, yet I never got my ﬁnger on to her slit, so as to feel the moisture; for she closed her little legs and wriggled, or got away from me somehow. Once or twice when I got a little rough, she set up a squeal, and I desisted. I offered her money. She replied, “No thank you, I am not going to spoil my chance that way.” Our conversation used to begin by my saying, “How is your duff ?” “Oh! nicely, thank you; how is your jock ?” All right and stiff, waiting for your duﬂ.” “Then it will wait a long time,” and so on. It always ending in my trying to feel her, and getting no further. At length they left, new servants coming.

I frequently saw her afterwards, and always began the same game. My mother was told I had been seen talking to her, so after that I only spoke to her at dusk. Some time afterwards she married a gardener, and I ocasionally saw her, but recognition came to a knowing nod and smile, which she always returned. Meanwhile I had got my fortune, as I shall tell; had no end of women, and had forgotten her, when walk- ing across a ﬁeld not far from our house, I overtook a short woman with a little child, and it was she. A —253—