I Can Never Close My Lips Where

Now I Am In The Garden At The Back . . . A Very Preserve Of Butterflies As I Remember It, With A High Fence, And A Gate . . . Where The Fruit Clusters On The Trees, Riper And Richer Than Fruit Has Ever Been Since, In Any Other Garden, And Where My Mother Gathers Some In A Basket While I Stand By, Bolting Furtive Gooseberries, And Trying To Look Unnerved.

We Were Equals Afterwards, As We Had Been Before; But, Afterwards At Quiet Times When I Sat Looking At Joe And Thinking About Him, I Had A New Sensation Of Feeling Conscious That I Was Looking Up To Joe In My Heart.

To Be Allowed To Call Her "dora", To Write To Her, To Dote Upon And Worship Her, To Have Reason To Think That When She Was With Other People She Was Yet Mindful Of Me, Seemed To Me The Summit Of Human Ambition - I Am Sure It Was The Summit Of Mine.

Mrs. Lammle's Manner Changed Under The Poor Silly Girl's Embraces, And She Turned Extremely Pale: Directing One Appealing Look, First To Mrs. Boffin, And Then To Mr. Boffin. Both Understood Her Instantly, With A More Delicate Subtlety Than Much Better Educated People, Whose Perception Came Less Directly From The Heart, Could Have Brought To Bear Upon The Case.

I Had Seen The Damp Lying On The Outside Of My Little Window, As If Some Goblin Had Been Crying There All Night, And Using The Window For A Pocket-handkerchief.