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TESS OF THE D’URBERVILLES

—don’t make me break down quite!’ she said. ‘If you want to help them—God knows they need it—do it without telling me. But no, no!’ she cried. ‘I will accept nothing from you, either for them or for me!’

He did not accompany her farther since, as she lived with the household, all was public indoors. No sooner had she herself entered and mechanically shared supper with the family than she fell into thought, and withdrawing to the table under the wall, by the light of her own little lamp wrote in a passionate mood—


My own Husband,—Let me call you so—I must—even if it makes you angry to think of such an unworthy wife as I. I must cry to you in my trouble—I have no one else! I am so exposed to temptation, Angel. I fear to say who it is, and I do not like to write about it all. But I cling to you in a way you cannot think! Can you not come to me now, at once, before anything terrible happens? O, I know you cannot, because you are so far away! I think I must die if you do not come soon, or tell me to come to you. The punishment you have measured out to me is deserved—I do know that—well deserved—and you are right and just to be angry with me. But, Angel, please, please, not to be just—only a little kind to me, even if

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