She has my attention, now. Dresses, I think. Once I am dressed, I might escape.~~
She sees the change in me, and is pleased. She brings me another breakfast of fish, and again I eat it. She brings me coffee, sweet as syrup: it makes my heart beat hard. Then she brings me a can of hot water. She wets a towel and tries to wash me. I will not let her, but take the towel from her, press it against my face, under my arms, between my legs.—The first time, in all my life, that I washed myself.
Then she goes off—locks the door, of course, behind her—comes back with Dainty. They are carrying paper boxes. They set them
down upon the bed, untie their strings and draw out gowns. Dainty sees them, and screams. The gowns are all of silk: one of violet, with yellow ribbon trimming it, another of green with a silver stripe, and a third of crimson. Dainty takes up an edge of cloth and strokes it.
''Pongee?'' she says, as if in wonder.
''Pongee, with a foulard rouche,'' says Mrs Sucksby—the words coming awkwardly, fleshily o