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Let's Have Another Look at Your Past Perfect

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She's a sight for exhausted eyes when I wake up
In my sunny yellow room, but the sun shines
Directly from her in her black jacket and skirt.
"What time is it?" I ask, and without even looking
She says, "Twenty-two minutes past ten." I smile.
Most people would round up or down, but not her.

She says she hasn't been here long, that over
Breakfast, she and Miss Parkhill had a polite
Skirmish over which one of them would come up
And see if I'd woken. She adds, unnecessarily,
"I won." Then she kisses me and it's like passing
Sunshine from one person to another, her to me.

But I only got five hours of sleep, tormented
By thoughts of Mr. Ainsworth, how dirty he always
Made me feel, my betrayal of his wife and myself.
I say maybe she shouldn't say anything to him,
Since he'll be angry, embarrassed, humiliated
If he knows I told anyone about what went on.

"What went on? You were quite right to tell me.
And that makes him embarrassed or humiliated?
Bad luck." As I wash and dress, she tells me
Her plan to sink a coal pit, asks if she might
Borrow some money from me for the purpose
Temporarily. "How much? Of course you can."