Soon after I was walking with her and talking about the young lady, she wasn't surprised, the girl was always flirting with him and had been caught reading objectionable books, and I asked Edith to describe them. — She'd be very sorry to do so. — “Oh — you've seen them then.” — No she hadn't, she said in a startled manner, but knew she'd trapped herself — I harped on the subject. “If I lend you a book will you tell me if it's objectionable or not,” She would, and wouldn't tell her mother, nor show it. — “It's all about love — un-disguised love — and pictures some might call naughty
— objectionable.” — “Oh, lend it me.” — “I'm frightened — if you're found with it, it will be serious — if not, only you and I will know it, and oldish men know how to hold their tongues.” — “Do lend it me — no one shall see it.” “It's all about lovers amusing them-selves, — but I mustn't lend it you.” — “Oh you're joking I know, — but do lend it me.” — This is only a summary of a long conversation — for I was cautious, fearing she might shy. Now she was wild to see the book, and must have guessed it was a baudy one. — “I can't send it and can't take it to you” (I didn't visit them).
— “I'll meet you out.” — She's game thought I, and concluded she'd have her avenue frictionized by the male apparatus. — Then she agreed to meet me two days after, she was going shopping without her mother.
The party was over, her mother had a carriage, and a seat in it was offered me — in the carriage in the dusk I squeezed her hand, she I thought returned it, I pressed my legs against hers and she didn't move hers away — mine were between the two women. — I went on talking to Mamma and taking no notice of the daughter — Mamma asked me in when they alighted, but I declined, and as I handed Edith out pressed her hand saying, “I wish the swing had shown more.” — She only said “Thursday” and we parted.
I was at the place, but didn't expect her. — Flirts with their cunts telling them they are neglected — as they do to spinsters approaching thirty — are some-times after food, champagne, and suggestive gossip, apt to get lustful thrills, and listen to talk, and to say things which next day they regret — I took a Fanny Hill with me. — Punctual, there she was, saying she'd not expected me. “I've got the book, don't be angry afterwards with me.” — “I won't.” — “But I want a word with you first, get into a cab, for five minutes, we can't talk in the street.” — Into a four wheeler we got, I told her more about the book, avoiding baudy words, that the pictures showed “people making love.” She put it into her pocket rapidly, I got a kiss, said “Oh that swing, it's made me want” and we parted naming a day to meet for her to return it. — After-wards I thought of the risks and wondered at myself — for I'd no defined intentions. The pleasure of lending a real lady a baudy book was my delight — the idea of she and I reading books on sexualities in common — such of course would be the case — delighted me.
She met me and returned the book carefully sealed up. — “What do you think of it?” — “It's disgraceful, you'd no business to lend me such a book.” — “You asked me.” — “I didn't expect it was one like that. — What must you think of me?” — “Nothing, you've seen such before.” — “I'm sure I haven't.” — This sham of hers went on a little time in the street. — “I won't lend you any others.” — “Oh!” she said eagerly, “have you any more?” — I asked her to meet me somewhere where we could see them privately, but she wouldn't answer, I got her into a cab, kissed her, and I tried a feel unsuccessfully. Would I assure her it was not so improper as the other — a precious transparent sham. — I told her it was not, but was baudier. She took it and another day returned it.
I was on reflexion staggered with what had occurred, so unlooked for, so unpremeditated. The secret baudiness of the affair, my perpetual wondering whether she'd had the doodle up her, kept up my excitement and the lady's also, I suppose. She remarked that she could talk to me as a father, tho few fathers I apprehend have talked to daughters so. Within a few weeks I'd spoken of the pleasure of frigging and gamahuching and offered to instruct her. She said she didn't believe it, but should wait til she was married, and so on. — She steadily refused to go to a house with me. Then I left town in the belief that she was a cunning bitch, who'd been fucked, frigged and gamahuched, was trying to entrap me into some compromising action, and resolved never to meet her again. For a couple of months abroad I was nearly chaste, and then returned to London.
