People are afraid of her that no one has ever dared to make fun of her. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. On the whole, I think that I have been disappointed with the life here. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict.
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