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Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters.doc
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I felt suffocated, all at once, by my own story, and by the meanings she was teasing from it. 'I can't explain,' I said. 'She had a power over me. She was rich. She had - things.'

'First you told me it was a gent that threw you out. Then you said it was a lady. I thought, that you had lost some girl ..."

'I had lost a girl; but it was Kitty, and it was years before.'

'And Diana was rich; and blacked your eye and cut you, and you let her. And then she chucked you out because you -kissed her maid.' Her voice had grown steadily harder. 'What happened to herT

'I don't know. I don't know!'

We lay a while in silence, and the bed seemed suddenly terribly slim. Florence gazed at the lightening square of curtain at the window, and I watched her, miserably. When she put a finger to her mouth to chew at a nail. I lifted my hand to stop her; but she pushed my arm away, and made to rise.

'Where are you going?' I asked.

'Upstairs. I want to sit a little while and think.'

'No!' I cried; and as I cried it, Cyril, in his crib upstairs, woke up, and began to call out for his mother. I reached for Florence and seized her wrist and, all heedless of the baby's cries, pulled her back and pressed her to the bed. 'I know what you mean to do,' I said. 'You mean to go and think of Lilian!'

'I cannot help but think of Lilian!' she answered, stricken. 'I cannot help it. And you - you're just the same, only I never knew it. Don't say - don't say you weren't thinking of her, of Kitty, last night, as you kissed me!'

I took a breath - but then I hesitated. For it was true, I

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couldn't say it. It was Kitty I had kissed first and hardest; and it was as if I had had the shape or the colour or the taste of her kisses upon my lips, ever after. Not the spendings and the tears of all the weeping sods of Soho, nor the wine and the damp caresses of Felicity Place, had quite washed those kisses away. I had always known it - but it had never matter with Diana, nor with Zena. Why should it matter with Florence?

What should it matter who she thought of, as she kissed me?

'All I know is,' I said at last, 'if we had not lain together last night, we would have died of it. And if you tell me now we shall never lie together again, after that, that was so marvellous -!'

I still held her to the bed, and Cyril still cried; but now, by some miracle, his cries began to die - and Florence, in her turn, grew slack in my arms, and turned her head against me.

'I liked to think of you,' she said quietly, 'as Venus in a sea-shell. I never thought of the sweethearts you had, before you came here ..."

'Why must you think of them now?'

'Because you do! Suppose Kitty were to show up again, and ask you back to her?'

'She won't. Kitty's gone, Flo. Like Lilian. Believe me, there's more chance of her coming back!' I began to smile. 'And if she does, you can go to her, and I won't say a word. And if Kitty comes for me, you can do similar. And then, I suppose, we shall have our paradises - and will be able to wave to one another from our separate clouds. But till then - till then, Flo, can't we go on kissing, and just be glad?'

As lovers' vows go, this one was, I suppose, rather curious; but we were girls with curious histories - girls with pasts like boxes with ill-fitting lids. We must bear them, but bear them carefully. We should do very well, I thought, as Florence sighed and raised her hand to me at last; we should do very well, so long as the boxes stayed unspilled.

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