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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"

I don't have any unnecessary words, but I put 'em down quick, I can
tell you, when they talk to me. No; it's quite nice these days. I lock my door,
and they can only call me names through the keyhole, and I sit inside, just
like a lady, mending socks. Mr. Torpenhow wears his socks out both ends at
once."
"Three quid a week from me, and the delights of my society. No socks mended.
Nothing from Torp except a nod on the landing now and again, and all his socks
mended. Bessie is very much a woman," thought Dick; and he looked at her
between half-shut eyes. Food and rest had transformed the girl, as Dick knew
they would.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" she said quickly. "Don"t. You look
reg'lar bad when you look that way. You don't think much o" me, do you?"
"That depends on how you behave."
Bessie behaved beautifully. Only it was difficult at the end of a sitting to
bid her go out into the gray streets. She very much preferred the studio and a
big chair by the stove, with some socks in her lap as an excuse for delay. Then
Torpenhow would come in, and Bessie would be moved to tell strange and
wonderful stories of her past, and still stranger ones of her present improved
circumstances. She would make them tea as though she had a right to make it;
and once or twice on these occasions Dick caught Torpenhow's eyes fixed on the
trim little figure, and because Bessie's flittings about the room made Dick
ardently long for Maisie, he realised whither Torpenhow's thoughts were
tending.


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