"The same man then asked me my name and
address, while the others all seemed to be laughing, as
if a great joke were going on. I was bewildered to
madness, all that I know is that I refused to give it,
telling them 'it was no business of theirs. If they had

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anything against me they could punish me as much as
ever they liked, but I would not allow them to bring
disgrace or discredit on the people I loved — the sweet
mother and sisters who had been so good to me.'
They say I added in an undertone, ' You may send
me to prison, kill me if you like, life is not worth
living ; but you shall not bring discredit on my
people.'

" Then I dimly recollect half a dozen cruel-looking
men saying, ' She won't give her name, won't she ? that
looks fishy ! you'd better search her,' said the ringleader
of my tormentors. So they either turned out my
pockets, or made me do so, but they only discovered a
handkerchief, my notebook — chiefly full of my own
poetry, which they must have kept, for I never saw it
again — and a paper bag containing several greengages
which was marked 'Southend,' from which they con-
cluded that I lived down there, for they talked a great
deal about it.
" After that I do not remember anything, for a
dreamy sense of the unreality of life beset me, and
my mind, as regards anything that really happened, is
a perfect blank.
