spoon—the grounds I
could not reach with that I put my finger to, and then I sucked my finger. Now my
mouth is very bitter, but its flesh quite numb. I believe I could bite my tongue until
it bled, and scarcely feel it.
14 November 1874
Well, Mother and I are twenty chapters into Little Dorrit, and I have been
marvellously good and patient, all week long. We have been to tea at the Wallaces'',
and to Garden Court for supper with Miss Palmer and her beau; we have even
been to the dress shops of Hanover Street together. And oh! what a hateful
business it is, watching the small-chinned, prim-faced, plump-throated girls walk
simpering before one, while the lady lifts the folds of skirt to show the faille, the
groseille or the foulard detail underneath. I said, Had they nothing in grey?— the
lady looked doubtful. Had they anything slim and plain and neat?—They showed
me a girl in a cuirass gown. She was small, and shapely—she looked like an ankle in
a well-shaped boot. I knew I would put the same gown on and look like a sword in
a scabbard.
I bought a pair of buff kid gloves—and wished I might buy a dozen more of them,
to take to Selina in her cold cell.
Still, I think Mother believed we were making great strides forward. This
morning, as I took my breakfast, she presented me with a gift, in a silver case. It